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DELILAH   OF  HARLEM 


A  STORY  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  CITY 
OF   TO-DAY 


BY 

RICHARD    HENRY    SAVAGE 

AUTHOR    OF 

"MY    OFFICIAL   WIFE" 

"THE    LITTLE    LADY   OF    LAGUNITAS" 

"PRINCE   SCHAMYL'S   WOOING" 

"THE   MASKED   VENUS" 
"THE   PASSING   SHOW"   (STORIES) 

ETC.,    ETC. 


• 


NEW   YORK 

THE    TRADE    SUPPLIED    BY 

THE    AMERICAN   NEWS   COMPANY 
1893 


COPYRIGHT,  1893,  BY 
RICHARD   HENRY   SAVAGE 

[All  rights  reserved] 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


.;  2777 


CONTENTS. 

BOOK   I. 
THE  SPIDER'S  PARLOR. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. — Mrs.  Selina  Francis'  Reception.  An 

Amber  Goddess,  -  7 

"  II.— At  the  Bank.  Love  in  the  Park. 

Mr.  Thomas  Overton's  Afternoon 
Call,  -  22 

"  III. — Overton's  Account  Opened.  In  the 
Pool-room.  The  Moth  and  the 
Candle,  -  38 

"  IV.— Golden  Hours.  At  the  Race 
Track.  At  Claremont.  A  Van 
ished  Venus,  -  54 

"  V. — Birds  of  a  Feather.  Mephisto  and 

Faust.  The  Senior  Partner's 
Yacht,  -  -  75 

BOOK   II. 

IN    THE    TOILS. 

CHAPTER  VI. — Breakers  Ahead.  Awkward  Ex 
planations.  The  "  Universe  " 
Reporter,  -  -  98 

"  VII.— Overton's  Return.  Warring  Part 
ners.  Riley's  Plan.  The  Boston 
Train.  Abel  Cram's  Discovery,  120 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  VIII.— Home  Again.  Viola  Pomeroy's 
Successful  Novel.  Face  to 
Face.  Morton  at  Bay.  A 
Family  Crisis,  -  -  141 

«  IX.— A  Broken  Idol.  Jose  Oliviera's 
Shipping  Venture.  Abel  Cram's 
Dilemma.  A  Wall  Street  Bank 
Robbery,  -  -162 

«  X.— The  Inspector  Baffled.  The  Cruise 

of  the  "  Restless."  Maxwell's 
Clew.  Morton's  Quest,  -  -  192 


BOOK    III. 

A    BLIND    TRAIL. 

CHAPTER  XL— On  the  Blue  Caribbean.  Parted 
by  Fate.  In  the  Honduras 
Mountains.  Nearing  his  Enemy,  214 

"  XIL— A  Battle  Day  with  the  Revolution 
ists.  Face  to  Face.  Morton 
Wipes  out  his  Score.  Treasure 
Trove.  Yellow  Jack,  -  232 

"  XIII. — Haggerty  Sees  a  Lovely  Vision. 
Maxwell's  Colorado  Journey. 
In  Cairo.  John  Martin's  Bride. 
In  the  Bois.  u  Two  Gentlemen 
from  New  York."  An  Old 
Love-story.  (l  I  Want  Those 
Bonds,"  -  256 

«  XIV.— On  the  Trail.  Seth  Wise's  Bluff. 
First  Blood  for  Riley  and  Olivi- 
era.  Delilah  of  Harlem  to  the 
Rescue,  -  -  -  279 


CONTENTS.  5 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XV. — A  Morning  Surprise.  The  Veiled 
Witness.  Judge  Lawton's  Ulti 
matum.  Claire  Morton's  Fort 
une.  The  Witch  Undoes  her 
Work.  Wedding  Bells.  At  the 
Legation  Ball.  "  Home  Again  !  "  302 


V 


DELILAH  OF   HARLEM. 

A  STORY   OF  THE    NEW   YORK   CITY  OF 
TO-DAY. 


BOOK    I. 


THE  SPIDER'S  PARLOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MRS.     SELINA     FRANCIS'     RECEPTION.        AN     AMBER     GOD 
DESS  ! 

"  No,  old  boy  !  The  whole  thing  is  a  bore  !  I  am 
tired  of  New  York  !  "  cried  Ralph  Burnham,  carefully 
selecting  a  cigar  from  the  box  of  Excepcionales. 

In  a  cosey  private  room  of  the  Brunswick,  two  men, 
old  college  chums,  were  seated  at  a  table  covered  with 
the  debris  of  a  bachelor  dinner.  It  was  the  genial  summer 
time  of  1889.  The  flickering  lights  on  the  avenue  lit 
up  gay  groups  hurrying  to  cafe  and  theatre.  Burnham, 
tall,  dark,  and  thirty-four,  was  the  type  of  your  uneasy 
New  Yorker,  who  chafes  daily  at  the  sameness  of  life  in 
the  one  spot  on  earth  dear  above  all  others. 

Walter  Maxwell,  critic,  author,  and  globe  trotter, 
(blonde  and  thirty-two,)  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  curi 
ously  eying  Burnham.  Slowly  knocking  the  ash  from 
his  cigarette,  he  pushed  Burnham  a  petit  verre. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Ralph  !  you  were  not  cut  out  to  play 


8  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

the  blase.  No  man  at  Harvard  was  fuller  of  life  than 
you.  Rouse  yourself,  old  man  !  "  ejaculated  Maxwell, 
caressing  his  blonde  mustache.  "  Go  in  for  something 
— athletics,  get  a  yacht,  drive  your  horses — you  must 
pull  yourself  together.  Now,  what  have  you  to  com 
plain  of?  I,  poor  devil,  must  live  by  my  pen  and  wits. 
Still,  I  am  happy.  '  The  world's  mine  oyster  ! '  Yours  is 
opened  for  you,  and  served  on  silver  plate.  When  you 
became  junior  partner  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co.,  your 
fortune  was  made.  No  firm  is  sounder  in  Wall  Street; 
old  John  Wise's  shekels  in  the  Chemical  Bank  back  you 
up  ;  Harry  Morton  is  an  executive  genius.  Your  duties 
seem  to  me  to  consist  of  lunching  at  the  Lawyers'  Club 
and  trifling  at  the  onyx  counters  of  the  Cafe  Savarin. 
Do  you  really  ever  do  anything  ?  " 

Burnham  listlessly  answered  :  "  I  go  through  the  daily 
round.  Of  course,  you  know,  Walter,  Wise  and  Morton 
have  the  capital.  I  presume,  if  Harry  had  not  married 
my  cousin  Claire,  I  would  be  merely  a  confidential  clerk 
— a  second  edition  of  Mr.  Abel  Cram." 

Ralph's  voice  died  away  in  a  sneer. 

Maxwell  gloomily  pulled  at  his  cigarette.  Certain 
memories  of  a  long-ago  class  day  at  fair  Harvard  floated 
back  to  his  mind.  Claire's  sweet,  girlish  face — her  wist 
ful  dark  eyes  proudly  fixed  on  Burnham — came  back 
to  him.  The  long  purse  then  had  turned  the  scale — as 
it  always  does. 

With  affected  carelessness,  Maxwell  returned  to  the 
charge. 

"  Old  man,  you  need  a  deeper  interest  in  life.  Why 
don't  you  marry  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  Marry  !  "  almost  shouted  Burnham,  bringing  down 
his  fist  on  the  table.  "  Marriage  in  New  York  is  only 
for  millionnaires  or  workingmen.  The  one  class  fill  the 
town  with  fools,  the  other  with  paupers.  No  man  in  my 
position  can  afford  to  keep  a  golden  cage  for  a  woman 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  9 

of  his  own  set.  Better  have  a  millstone  around  one's 
neck.  Besides,"  he  bitterly  growled,  "the  one  woman — 
oh,  hang  it,  old  fellow,  let's  get  out  of  here,"  springing 
to  his  feet,  and  seizing  hat  and  stick. 

"  Hold  on,  Ralph,"  sharply  said  Maxwell,  grasping 
him  by  the  arm.  "  Don't  get  hipped.  Now,  you  are  too 
much  alone.  You  mope  and  moon  your  time  away.  Get 
out  more  among  people.  See  the  passing  show.  Now, 
I  warrant  you  don't  go  into  the  best  houses  and  meet 
your  old  friends. " 

"  Friends  !  "  retorted  Burnham.  "  I  have  no  friends,  old 
man,  but  you  !  "  and  his  eyes  rested  lovingly  on  the  friend 
of  his  youth.  "  I  know  a  lot  of  fellows  in  business — 
never  see  them  outside.  As  for  the  women,  they  are  a 
bright,  hard-hearted  lot  !  Every  one  of  them  ticketed 
off  with  a  price — and  in  the  smart  set,  every  man  of  us 
has  a  label  bearing  the  figure  of  his  bank  account  ! 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  be  fool  enough  to  keep  a  wife 
I  would  see  but  three  times  a  week  in  the  season,  and 
only  hear  of  her  in  the  society  slush  journals,  or  by  her 
unpaid  bills  ?  Never  !  by  heaven  !  " 

Maxwell  paced  the  room  in  angry  discontent.  "  I  tell 
you,  I  am  tired  of  the  whole  business  !  I  wish  to  God 
there  was  a  war,  or  a  racket  of  some  kind  !  " 

"  And  you  think,  Ralph,  your  fate  will  not  come  to 
you  !  "  persisted  Maxwell. 

"  I  see  no  outlook,  old  man,  except  the  daily  drudgery 
of  the  bank,"  moodily  answered  Burnham. 
.  Maxwell  donned  his  overcoat.  "  I  am  going  to  show 
you  some  queer  phases  of  New  York  life,  my  boy — I  am 
going  to  drag  you  away  from  yourself.  Now,  I'll  meet 
you  in  half  an  hour  at  the  '  Hoffman.'  I  am  going  to 
take  you  to  a  soiree.  Get  your  dress  on,  and  I'll  show 
you  a  modern  human  menagerie." 

"  Where  ?  "  stolidly  demanded  Burnham. 

"  In  Harlem,  at  Mrs.  Selina  Francis'  reception  to-night. 


IO  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

I  am  ami  de  maison.  You  will  meet  a  lot  of  cranks  and 
some  very  bright  people.  They  have  not  a  tenth  of 
your  income,  but  they  have  a  hundred  times  the  joy  in 
life  you  ever  will  feel,  unless  you  drop  the  cynic  !  " 

"  Harlem  ! "  snorted  Burnham.  "  Who  lives  in  Har 
lem  ? " 

"  Come  with  me  and  see  !  "  gravely  rejoined  Maxwell. 
"  These  people  are  as  veritably  alive  as  Jay  Gould  or 
the  kings  of  the  Standard  Oil,  although  they  are  not 
worthy  to  be  even  tassels  on  the  Inner  Fringe." 

"What  sort  are  they  ?  "  timorously  asked  Ralph. 

Maxwell  laughed  merrily.  "  Oh  !  artists,  literary  peo 
ple,  foreigners,  and  a  general  assortment  of  the  human 
biped — male  and  female.  Besides,  old  man,  I  want  to  have 
a  chat  with  you  in  the  coupe.  I  will  release  you,flar(>fc 
J']wnncnt\  if  you  can't  stand  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  !  "  dubiously  answered  Burnham, 
who  departed,  murmuring,  sotto  voce,  "  Harlem  !  a  re 
ception  in  Harlem  !  "  with  the  air  of  a  modern  Columbus. 

Maxwell,  having  passed  his  mauvais  quart  cTheure  de 
Rabelais,  was  first  at  the  rendezvous.  Musing  as  his  eye 
strayed  over  the  tide  of  politicians,  sports,  "  Westerners," 
and  "  men  about  town,"  which  ebbs  and  flows  at  the 
Hoffman,  he  vainly  tried  to  call  back  all  the  details  of 
Burnham's  little  romance  wherein  Claire  (now  his  rich 
partner's  wife)  was  the  "  bright  particular  star." 

"  It  seems  to  me  everything  goes  wrong,"  he  sagely 
ruminated.  "  Now,  if  Burnham  had  Morton's  money, 
Claire  Morton  might  have  been  his  happy  wife  and  not 
the  childless  ornament  of  a  lonely  Fifth  Avenue  home  ! 
It's  a  case  of  *  Hoodman  Blind  ' !  " 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  !  "  he  cried,  as  Ralph's  tall  form 
edged  through  the  crowd. 

In  the  coupe,  many  an  old  scene  was  reviewed.  Max 
well's  roving  tastes  had  driven  him  over  the  world,  from 
Corea  to  Egypt,  from  South  America  to  Siberia,  in  search 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  II 

of  fresh  pabulum  for  that  great  reading  monster — the 
American  public.  Burnham  would  not  open  his  heart 
further  than  to  show  his  daily  chafing  under  the  "  demni- 
tion  grind." 

"  Tell  me  of  yourself,"  sententiously  demanded  Burn- 
ham,  as  he  settled  himself  on  the  cushions. 

"  I'm  a  will-o'-the-wisp,"  gayly  replied  Maxwell.  "  Here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  with  a  light  pocket,  a  good  diges 
tion,  and  a  heart  for  any  fate.  I  like  this  roving  life.  I 
like  journalism.  I  like  my  writing.  I  meet  those  un 
known  men  who  mould  the  daily  opinions  of  the  masses  ; 
for  the  busy  toilers  take  in  their  diurnal  beliefs  from  the 
journals.  '  Printers'  ink  '  is  the  modern  charm,  my  boy," 
dilated  the  scribe.  "  It  brings  the  blush  to  beauty's  cheek, 
it  flatters  the  merchant's  pride.  It  builds  up  and  pulls 
down  the  statesman's  house  of  cards.  Your  editor  is 
your  modern  Warwick.  I  am  a  free  lance  under  the  flag 
of  journalism.  I  enjoy  this  haphazard  life.  I  only  eschew 
two  things." 

His  voice  was  very  grave. 

"  And  they  are  ? "  Burnham  interjected. 

"  Love  and  politics  !  "  triumphantly  replied  Maxwell. 
"  I  can't  afford  to  dabble  in  either." 

The  wheels  rumbling  over  the  classic  New  York  pave 
ments  drowned  further  discussion.  Burnham  nursed  his 
cigar,  dreaming  of  that  hidden  fate  which  was  to  come  to 
him  ;  of  the  romance  which  his  ardent  nature  craved  ;  of 
the  utter  impossibility  of  weaving  a  mystery  around  his 
humdrum  life  in  the  streets  of  commonplace  New  York. 

Rousing  himself,  as  the  Jehu  emerged  on  the  asphalt 
of  the  Boulevard,  he  queried  :  "What  sort  of  a  woman 
is  this  Mrs.  Selina  Francis?  " 

Maxwell  responded,  with  epigrammatic  touches : 
"  Middle-aged,  widow,  advanced  ideas — gifted,  gets  a 
strange  lot  together — earnest,  hospitable,  honest — doors 
open  to  talent,  and  all  that !  " 


12  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Burnham  groaned  inwardly.  His  agonies  were  cut 
short  by  the  arrival  at  the  abode  of  the  hostess. 

In  five  minutes,  the  mystified  Ralph  was  a  fragment  of  a 
rapidly  revolving  human  kaleidoscope.  Drawing  Max 
well  aside,  after  his  presentation  to  Mrs.  Selina  Francis, 
from  a  coign  of  vantage  he  surveyed  the  scene.  In  the 
centre  of  the  parlors  the  hostess  (tall,  rawboned,  and 
severe)  received  the  homage  of  a  polyglot  assembly. 
While,  with  a  curling  lip,  Burnham  gazed  upon  the 
crowd,  he  indulged  in  a  running  commentary  which 
greatly  amused  his  Bohemian  comrade. 

'*  Maxwell,"  he  whispered,  "  these  people  have  no  real 
place  in  society  ;  America  is  crowding  them  out.  There 
is  no  medium  between  Newport  and  a  horde  of  the 
useful  classes  cronying  over  a  pot  of  beer.  This  is  all 
imitative,  slavish,  shabby  genteel !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  retorted  Maxwell.  "  Queerly  assorted 
as  these  people  are,  they  are  real — their  feelings  are 
strong,  vivid,  natural.  They  are  a  jumble,  but  they  all 
have  dash,  life,  and  energy.  Their  code  and  social  laws 
are  as  intelligent  and  well  grounded  as  the  pompous  edicts 
of  the  only  McAllister — that  high-priest  of  Fashion  and 
guardian  of  the  social  Golden  Rose.  You  must  mingle 
with  these  people  ;  you  will  find  some  remarkable  char 
acters  here." 

With  sly  humor  Maxwell  busied  himself,  and  extended 
the  social  circle  of  his  wondering  friend,  with  many 
strange  acquisitions  :  Signer  Pellegrini,  of  the  defunct 
Grand  Opera,  a  tall,  gloomy  conspirator;  Miss  Alma 
Atherton,  the  buxom  poetess  of  the  heart,  age  forty- 
eight,  weight  two  hundred;  William  Jenks,  Yankee 
electrical  expert,  a  sort  of  human  steel  trap  ;  Pro 
fessor  Boompointer,  the  heavy  geologist  of  the  Young 
Ladies'  Seminary  at  Yonkers  ;  and  Major  Grape  Shot 
Canister,  of  the  justly  celebrated  New  York  Ninety- 
Seventh  (never  missed  a  parade  in  his  life).  "  Great 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  13 

Heavens  !  "  murmured  Burnham,  "  what  an  assortment 
of  cranks  !  " 

Wandering  amiably  under  the  guidance  of  Miss  Daisy 
Quirk,  the  snappy  society  reporter  of  the  "  New  York 
Strangler,"  Burnham  threaded  the  double  parlors  and 
anterooms.  Mrs.  Selina  Francis'  household  being 
arranged  in  telescopic  fashion,  it  was  expanded  to  its 
full  extent  on  this  festal  night. 

His  fair  conductress  presented  the  astounded  broker 
to  Seiior  Castanet  de  Cuchillo,  owner  of  enormous  opal 
mines  in  Mexico  (on  the  market)  ;  Mrs.  Jimson  Weed,  a 
dashing  widow  from  Chicago  (antecedents  hazy)  ;  and 
Sadie  Trapbouncer,  the  sprightly  soubrette,  patentee  of 
the  Great  American  Labyrinthine  Can-can,  (not  in 
tights,)  but  looking  very  demure  and  harmless. 

From  a  safe  distance,  Maxwell,  (a  genial  Mephisto,) 
watched  with  glee  Burnham's  onward  and  upward  career 
in  Harlem's  "  best  circles." 

For,  sooth  to  say,  the  young  broker  was  at  heart  a 
"  proper  man,"  and  lent  himself  to  the  fast-rising  jollity 
of  the  evening.  Sundry  music-stands,  an  open  piano, 
and  a  suspicious  dwarfed  case  or  two,  resembling  baby 
coffins,  but  in  reality  containing  violins  and  guitars, 
hinted  of  an  impending  musical  deluge.  In  the  per 
spective,  a  well-furnished  table,  guarded  by  severe  look 
ing  Abigails,  promised  future  refreshment  for  the 
"  inner  man  and  internal  woman." 

The  final  introductions  of  the  evening  ceased  with 
Imogen  Bryan,  the  young  genius  from  Colorado,  a  wild- 
eyed  recitationist ;  Tom  Powers,  the  urbane  profes 
sional  base-ball  referee  ;  Mr.  Cash  Books,  the  gentle 
manly  financier  from  Macy's ;  Watson  Squires,  the 
unappreciated  dramatist  ;  and  Count  Irkutsk,  the  escaped 
Russian  patriot  and  ex-Nihilist.  "  Great  Scott  !  what 
hair  !  "  ejaculated  Ralph,  as  the  Count  waved  his  mane 
in  friendly  salutation. 


14  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Escaping  gracefully  from  his  fair  guide,  Burnham,  in 
amused  weariness,  sought  Maxwell,  who  was  bending 
over  a  jolly-looking  little  woman  and  softly  murmuring 
words  whose  fervor  beHed  his  proverbial  fickleness. 

Ensconced  in  a  fortification  formed  by  the  robes  of 
several  ladies,  of  which  charming  sex  great  numbers 
ornamented  the  walls,  Burnham  listened  with  patience 
to  the  music,  recitations,  poems,  and  readings  in  which 
the  Harlemite  (male  and  female)  does  mightily  delight. 
Too  well  bred  to  openly  consult  his  watch,  his  eyes 
idly  strayed  from  face,  to  face,  after  he  had  vainly 
tried  to  lure  Maxwell  away  from  that  jolly  little  party, 
by  the  eye  telegraph. 

Alas  !  in  vain.  Lower  bent  the  enamored  Maxwell's 
head.  Softly  fell  the  cooing  accents  of  his  deceitful 
voice,  rosier  red  grew  the  blushes  on  the  cheeks  of  the 
plump  little  woman  at  his  side. 

Suddenly,  Burnham  started  as  he  explored  the  dim 
recesses  wherein  the  ladies  had  taken  refuge  from  the 
billows  of  melody,  and  the  sonorous  ranting  of  the  lite 
rati. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  he  muttered,  "  there's  a  woman  out  of 
place  in  this  circus  ;  I  would  like  to  see  her  face." 

And  this  is  what  the  blase  Ralph  Burnham  saw:  A 
woman  in  the  full  bloom  of  life  and  vigor, — a  daughter 
of  the  gods  !  tall,  and  with  that  exquisite  shape  which 
turns  all  heads  on  the  idle  promenade. 

Simply  clad  in  a  robe  of  .amber  silk,  her  delicate  hands 
lay  idly  crossed  before  her.  An  indescribable  thrill  made 
Burnham's  pulses  bound. 

And  yet  he  had  not  seen  her  face.  She  was  gazing 
from  the  window,  out  into  the  silent  night,  where  the 
great  white  stars  were  swinging  grandly  to  the  west. 

Her  classic  head  was  nobly  poised  upon  perfect  shoul 
ders.  Ralph  whispered  to  himself,  "  A  Venus  of  Milo, 
with  the  arms  !  " 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  15 

As  he  gazed,  the  Amber  Lady  slowly  turned  her  head, 
as  if  Burnham's  unspoken  wish  had  reached  her  stranger 
heart. 

Was  it  the  music  ?  For  a  wild  strain  of  some  old 
opera  melody  floated  out  through  the  open  windows. 
No  !  She  had  been  impassive  before  ! 

She  was  alone  !  Burnham  had  watched  her  for  minutes 
too  long  for  his  impatient  heart  so  strangely  stirred. 

Her  eyes,  vaguely  seeking  something,  rested  on  Ralph. 
In  their  blue  depths  he  saw  the  signal  of  Fate  :  "  Come  ! 
I  have  been  waiting  for  you  !  " 

Steadily  Burnham  gazed  upon  a  pale,  fair  face,  perfect 
in  its  outline,  and  calm  as  the  immortal  goddess  who 
smiles  serenely  in  the  Louvre. 

In  a  moment  her  splendid  eyes  sought  again  the  com 
mune  of  the  glittering  stars  of  night. 

Burnham  picked  his  way  out  of  the  feminine  fortress 
of  his  retreat,  and  artfully  approached  the  triumphant 
Mrs.  Selina  Francis. 

"  Am  I  a  fool  ?  "  he  muttered,  as  he  neared  the  hostess, 
who  towered  in  the  glory  of  her  dazzling  success,  a  social 
priestess  of  the  night.  The  consciousness  of  having 
eclipsed  all  prehistoric  Harlem  receptions  made  her 
genial  heart  swell  with  honest  pride.  The  climax  of  the 
evening's  festivity  was  approaching  !  That  bounteous 
supper,  around  whose  feebly  guarded  outworks  the  soul- 
satisfied  guests  were  even  now  beginning  to  swarm  ! 

A  distant  tinkle  of  knives  and  clatter  of  forks  told  of 
feeble  individual  attempts  to  storm  the  culinary  citadel. 

When  Ralph  Burnham  asked  the  favor  of  a  presenta 
tion  to  the  "  Amber  Lady,"  Mrs.  Selina  Francis  broke  into 
wreathed  smiles. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  my  dear  sir  !  "  the  duenna 
replied,  for  the  fame  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co.  had 
penetrated  the  wild  jungles  of  Harlem,  and  Burnham,  if 
not  the  lion,  was  one  of  the  choicest  leonine  specimens 


l6  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

of  the  evening.  He  had  that  nameless  air  which  attracts, 
piques,  and  satisfies  critical  womanhood  ! 

In  a  moment,  Ralph  Burnham  was  bowing  low  before 
the  woman  whose  mute  call  from  those  sapphire  eyes 
had  lured  him  to  her  side  ! 

"  Ah  !  I  must  hasten  !  "  cried  the  anxious  hostess,  as 
the  serried  columns  of  hungry  guests  surged  toward  the 
distant  tables. 

"  Marie,"  she  hastily  said,  with  affectionate  familiarity, 
"  let  me  present  Mr.  Ralph  Burnham,  of  Morton,  Burn- 
ham  &  Co.  Mr.  Burnham,  my  friend,  Mrs.  Marie  Ash- 
ton,"  and  with  a  flutter  of  her  robes,  Mrs.  Selina  Francis 
sailed  away  to  the  scene  of  the  "  impending  conflict  "  ! 

Burnham  was  gazing  blankly  into  the  deep  eyes 
sleadiTy"  fixed  on  him,  and  caught  himself  with  a  start,  as, 
with  perfect  composure,  the  lovely  beauty  said,  "  Will 
you  not  be  seated,  Mr.  Burnham  ? " 

That  voice,  low,  soft,  and  musical,  with  a  thrilling 
undertone  of  veiled  earnestness,  recalled  Ralph  to  his 
senses.  It  was  as  he  had  expected  !  Her  perfect  form, 
her  sweet  face,  intensely  expressive  in  its  expectant 
beauty — and  a  voice  like  the  sighing  of  the  summer 
breeze  through  the  forest  !  A  lovely  wanderer  ! 

That  voice  echoed  from  long  ago  !  It  said  to  him  :  "  I 
have  found  you  at  last.  I  have  called  you  to  me.  We 
are  now  side  by  side." 

And  there,  under  the  starlight,  Burnham  felt  that,  in 
spite  of  sneer  and  derision,  he  had  met  his  fate — in 
Harlem  I 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Burnham  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  joyous  Maxwell,  bearing  away  in  triumph 
the  jolly  little  woman  supperwards. 

He  disjointedly  murmured,  "  Will  you  have  supper, 
madam  ?  Permit  me  ! — "  rising  as  he  spoke. 

The  Amber  Lady  motioned  him  to  his  seat  with  her 
fan  :  "  Thanks  !  I  prefer  not.  It  is  so  pleasant  here." 


DELILAH   OF    HARLEM.  17 

Burnham,  in  the  shadowed  corner,  could  only  see  those 
wonderful  blue  eyes  gleaming  at  him  over  the  black  lace 
of  her  slowly  moving  fan.  A  faint  suggestion  of  some 
delicate  perfume  seemed  to  thrill  every  fibre  of  his  ting 
ling  nerves  ! 

Falling  into  a  softly  spoken  dialogue,  the  moments 
glided  away.  Merry  laughter,  the  sound  of  popping 
corks,  and  the  fragmentary  converse  of  the  revellers 
broke  in  upon  their  tete-a-tete. 

It  was  not  long  before  Ralph  Burnham  knew  that 
Marie  Ashton  was  a  stranger  in  New  York — that  she 
lived  alone.  It  was  easy  to  conclude  that  the  "  Amber 
Lady "  was  as  unfettered  as  the  man  whose  beating 
heart  kept  time  to  every  musical  word  dropping  from 
those  curved  red  lips.  Their  splendid  color  was  of  the 
heart  of  the  reddest  rose. 

Perfect  in  manner,  a  high-bred  repose  and  ease  marked 
her  as  a  wandering  Peri  in  this  Harlem  Paradise  !— 
Man  of  the  world,  veteran  flaneur,  Burnham's  persiflage 
could  not  shake  her  calm  self-possession.  His  whispered 
thought  (in  his  inmost  soul)  was,  "  I  must  make  Maxwell 
find  out  all  about  her." 

In  the  course  of  time,  even  Harlem  suppers  have  an 
end  !  Burnham  saw,  with  satisfaction,  the  return  of 
Maxwell  with  his  fair  charge. 

Music  and  dancing  followed  the  midnight  feast.  Burn- 
ham  unwillingly,  in  view  of  the  convenances,  sought  his 
friend  and  mentor,  Maxwell. 

Drawing  him  aside,  he  carelessly  remarked  :  "  By  the 
way,  Walter,  do  you  know  Mrs.  Ashton  ? " 

"Ah  I'yes,  but  slightly,"  was  Maxwell's  reply,  as  his 
roving  eyes  followed  the  jolly  little  woman  through  the 
mazes  of  an  interminable  waltz  with  a  hated  rival. 
"  Very  nice  person  !  Very  quiet,  very  stylish.  Widow 
lady  from  the  South  or  West,  I  think.  No  children.  I 
think  she  has  money !  Lives  very  quietly  out  here,  near 


ig  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

the  Park  !  Elegant  apartment— very  great  friend  of 
Mrs.  Francis.  Quite  superior  person.  Goes  out  very 
little.  Do  you  think  her  handsome?"  concluded  Max 
well. 

Burnham's  words  slowly  dropped  one  by  one  :  "  I 
consider  her  a  very  charming  person  !  " 

And  in  fear  of  self-betrayal,  Ralph  wandered  back  to 
the  Amber  Lady,  still  gazing,  with  those  deep  blue  eyes, 
into  the  depths  of  the  silent  starlit  night. 

Marie  Ashton  welcomed  him  with  a  flashing  glance,  as 
he  reseated  himself  at  her  side.  In  this,  Burnham, 
with  fluttering  heart  and  bounding  pulses,  fancied  he 
could  read  the  calm  utterance  of  a  Venus  Victrix :  "  I 
knew  you  would  come  back  to  me  ! " 

"  Mrs.  Ashton,"  began  Burnham,  as  he  noted  the 
hooded  and  cloaked  fair  ones  beginning  to  disappear, 
"  I  hope  I  am  not  presumptuous  if  I  ask  the  honor  of 
paying  my  respects  to  you — at  your  own  home  ?" 

Marie  Ashton  steadily  gazed  over  that  gently  flutter 
ing  fan. 

"  And  you  would  like  to  see  me  again,*  Mr.  Burnham  ?  " 
she  slowly  said. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  Ralph  hastily  replied. 

"  I  live  very  quietly,"  said  Marie,  her  voice  lingering 
over  each  word,  "  but  if  you  wish  to  see  me — very 
much  " — a  pause,  the  filmy  lace  fan  beating  time  to  his 
heart  throbs— "you  may  come." 

Ralph's  telltale  eyes  were  filled  with  a  strange  light. 
Marie  Ashton  shivered  slightly,  and  said  :  "  I  think,  if  you 
will  take  me  to  Mrs.  Francis,  I  will  say  good-night ! 
My  carriage  is  waiting  !  " 

It  was  only  in  rising  that  Burnham's  eager  eyes  drank 
in  the  whole  loveliness  of  the  Amber  Lady.  As  her  arm 
rested  on  his,  for  the  first  time,  Ralph  felt  the  thrill  of  a 
newer  life  pulsing  in  his  veins.  Down  the  stairway,  the 
Amber  Lady  on  his  arm,  Burnham  passed  out  from  his 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  19 

dtbut  in  the  hitherto  unknown  social  deserts  of  Har 
lem. 

As  he  made  his  adieu  at  the  carriage  door,  the  sweet 
face  of  the  stranger  was  transfigured  in  the  crystal  star 
light.  Her  eyes,  shining  steadily  on  him,  were  even 
kinder  than  the  sweet  low  voice,  which  softly  said  :  "  It  is, 
then,  only  au  revoir  !  " 

She  was  really  gone,  the  lovely  witch,  and  Ralph  Burn- 
ham,  standing  uncovered,  gazing  after  the  carriage, 
dimly  remembered  that  he  had  hurriedly  kissed  the  little 
hand  which  stole  out  of  the  window,  and  had  hastily  mur 
mured  :  "  Au  revoir,  bientot,  madame  !  " 

The  descent  of  many  departing  revellers  recalling  him, 
Burnham  hastily  covered  himself,  and  muttering,  "  Pshaw  ! 
I'm  a  fool,"  lit  a  cigar  while  waiting  for  the  lingering 
Maxwell.  That  gay  youth  tarried  above,  in  effusive 
leave-taking,  from  the  little  bouncer  who  was,  for  one 
eventful  night,  the  queen  of  his  most  variable  and  eccen 
tric  affections. 

"  Let's  drive  down  to  the  club  and  have  a  bit  of  sup 
per,"  said  Burnham,  as  the  coupe  bore  the  voyagers  into 
Harlem  back  to  their  familiar  haunts. 

"  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  cried  Maxwell,  whose  efforts 
for  the  comfort  of  his  genial  inamorata  had  driven  all 
thoughts  of  self  out  of  his  head. 

u  What  do  you  think  of  Harlem  society  ? "  mischiev 
ously  demanded  the  de'bonnaire  journalist,  after  the  supper 
had  given  way  to  the  last  cigar  before  turning  in ! 

"  I  think  the  people  at  Mrs.  Francis'  are  mostly  a  lot 
of  ill-assorted  freaks,"  replied  Burnham  ;  "  but  there  were 
some  there,  in  very  good  form  !  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  will  ever  venture  up  there  again," 
slowly  remarked  Maxwell,  eying  Burnham,  slyly. 

"  Well,  you  know,  old  fellow,  I  have  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Francis  by  and  by !  Visite  de  rigueur,  you  know ! " 
simply  replied  the  young  broker. 


20  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"Oh  !  decidedly  !  "  rejoined  Maxwell.  "She  receives, 
informally,  always  on  Sunday  evenings.  Not  a  large 
circle,  but  a  few  intimates,  like  Mrs.  Ashton,  for  instance." 

Maxwell's  voice  had  a  queer,  dry  inflection,  which 
grated  slightly  on  his  hearer. 

"  Well !  let's  have  a  nightcap,  old  man,"  cried  Burn- 
ham,  and  with  a  warm  clasp  of  h'ands,  in  memory  of  the 
olden  days,  the  friends  separated  ! 

Burnham  slowly  paced  down  the  silent  streets  to  his 
splendid  apartment,  and  finished  his  cigar.  He  was 
haunted  by  two  deep  blue  eyes,  whose  tender  gaze  set 
his  pulses  madly  leaping  !  He  strolled  along,  murmur 
ing  to  himself  :  "  It  is,  then,  only  au  revoir  !  " 

And  as  he  laid  his  head  on  the  pillow,  his  eyes  closed 
upon  a  vision  of  that  splendid,  sinuous  woman  in  amber, 
whose  folded  arms  seemed  to  open  to  him.  In  his  un 
easy  dreams  he  saw  the  Venus  of  Milo  restored — sen 
tient  with  throbbing  life — an  olden  goddess  born  again 
in  these  latter  days.  Was  it  only  a  fickle  fancy — a  wild 
vision  of  the  night — that  she  drew  him  to  her  royal  breast 
and  whispered  :  "  I  have  waited  for  you  long  !  "  It  was 
as  real  as  all  of  love's  madness  ! — Ralph  Burnham 
dreamed  wild  dreams,  all  unwitting  of  the  unknown 
future  stretching  dark  and  mysterious  before  him. 

In  a  grand  room,  where  the  breezes  from  Central  Park 
were  wafted  through  silken  curtains,  Marie  Ashton  list 
ened  to  the  wheels  of  her  departing  carriage.  Her  beau 
tiful  face  was  bowed  in  her  slender  hands  ! 

Ringing  a  silver  bell,  she  raised  her  head  as  dusky 
Fanny,  alert,  nimble,  and  watchful,  thrust  her  bronzed 
face  through  the  door. 

"  Give  me  my  robe  de  chambre,  Fanny  !  "  said  the  mis 
tress. 

When  easily  reclining  in  a  deep  chair,  Marie  Ashton 
kindly  said :  "  You  may  go,  Fanny  !  You  are  tired  !  " 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  21 

"  Honey  !  you  looked  jess*  beautiful  to-night !  "  cried 
the  departing  maid. 

"Yes!  Better  than  usual !  "  bitterly  murmured  Marie, 
as  the  silence  of  the  room  told  her  she  was  alone. 

Loosening  her  rippling  golden  hair,  she  leaned  her 
tired  head  on  the  velvet  cushions.  As  her  eye  strayed 
around  the  room,  with  all  its  dainty  embellishment  of 
costly  art  and  precious  trifles  dear  to  woman,  she  locked 
her  shapely  hands  behind  her  head  !  With  her  gleaming 
arms  (silvery  in  their  whiteness)  bent  over  her,  she 
brokenly  faltered  : 

"  My  God  !  To  live  another  life  !  To  live  far  away 
from  here — to  forget  the  past — to  defy  the  future  in 
one  single  year  of  peace  !  " 

Yet  back  to  her  thoughts  came  the  impassioned  face 
of  Ralph  Burnham  as  he  said  "good-night  !  "—His 
kisses  still  lingered  on  the  blue-veined  hand,  with  its 
sparkling  rings  spanning  the  rosy-tipped  ringers. 

"  He  looks  a  man  !  A  real  man  !  Not  a  living  lie  ! — 
My  God  !  "  and  her  face  stiffened  into  stone,  "  if  he 
should  love  me  !  and — worse  than  all — if  I  should  love 
him  !  I  will  not  drag  him  down  with  me  !  I  will  not 
lead  him  on  !  I  will  be  cruel  to  him,  that  I  may  be 
kind." 

She  rose  and  poured  with  trembling  hand  a  few  drops 
from  a  crystal  flask  into  a  little  water.  Throwing  herself 
on  the  luxurious  bed,  worthy  of  a  queen,  Marie  Ashton 
murmured,  as  her  eyelids  closed,  "  If  it  were  not  for 
Tom  Overton — yes — Tom  Overton  " — and  she  passed  out 
into  the  wide  world  of  dreams,  to  waken  with  the  birds 
again,  and  hide  her  heart-sorrows  under  a  smiling  god 
dess  face. 


W7BRSIT7] 


22  DELILAH  OF  HARLEM. 

CHAPTER   II. 

LOVE  IN  THE  PARK.       AT  THE  BANK.       MR.   THOMAS  OVER- 
TON'S    AFTERNOON    CALL. 

TRINITY  bells  struck  ten  long  before  Ralph  Burnham, 
irreproachable  as  to  dress,  weary  as  to  eye,  crossed  the 
portals  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co.'s  bank  next  morning. 

In  the  tedium  of  bath  and  breakfast — in  the  constitu 
tional  of  "walking  down  Broadway" — the  financier  was 
haunted  by  that  refrain  :  "  It  is,  then,  only  au  revoir  /" 

Nodding  to  several  of  the  employees,  Burnham  entered 
his  private  office.  He  listlessly  turned  over  the  letters 
on  his  desk. 

The  lines  of  hollow-eyed,  nervous-looking  clerks  winked 
at  each  other  and  rattled  their  papers,  as  Burnham  passed. 

"  The  chief's  been  making  a  high  old  night  of  it  !  " 
whispered  the  youngest  teller  to  his  chum. 

These  callow  youths  were  the  advance  guard  of  the 
great  army  of  Wall  Street  bandits — mere  tentacles  on 
the  limbs  of  that  giant  octopus — which  is  ever  feeling 
warily  around  for  "  fresh  fish  !  " 

Cold  in  heart,  vicious  and  pre-intelligent,  with  the 
fumes  of  cheap  Sixth  Avenue  absinthe  debauches  in  their 
brains,  they  addressed  themselves  to  figuring  up  moun 
tainous  indebtedness  against  greater  fools  than  them 
selves. 

"  That's  Burnham's  bell  !  "  muttered  Jenkins,  the  racing 
expert  of  the  house,  as  Mr.  Abel  Cram,  the  confidential 
clerk,  glided  like  a  ferret  through  the  room. 

Every  head  was  bowed — the  rapid  scratching  of  pens 
was  as  the  murmuring  of  the  leaves  on  Vallombrosa. 

Cram  the  redoubtable — Cram  the  infallible — Cram, 
admitted  to  the  counsels  of  the  "  House  "  !  "A  mighty 
man  of  war  in  Israel  !  " 

The  salient  point  of  the  character  of  Abel  Cram  was 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  23 

his  lamblike  innocence — his  abnegation  of  all  the  vices 
of  men  of  "  blood  and  bone."  Cram  might  have  been 
patented  as  a  mere  "  calculating  machine." 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Cram,"  carelessly  remarked 
Burnham,  as  the  "confidential"  stood  before  him. 
" Anything  new  to-day?" 

Cram  cleared  his  throat.  He  was  always  clearing  his 
throat.  Passing  a  bony  hand  over  that  promontory 
which  served  him  as  a  chin,  he  answered  : 

"  Nothing,  Mr.  Burnham.  The  '  Co.'  is  with  Mr. 
Morton.  All  else  is  as  usual." 

"  Very  good  !  very  good  !  "  murmured  Burnham.  "  I 
shall  be  here  till  two  o'clock.  If  any  one  calls  later,  I 
will  be  here  to-morrow  at  ten." 

Burnham  carelessly  scanned  his  letters — ignoring  the 
waiting  clerk.  Cram's  keen  eye  recognized  a  dainty 
note,  with  the  monogram  "  C.  M."  Mr.  Abel  Cram  had 
fingered  the  bank  mail  long  enough  to  know  that  this 
elaborately  ornamented  stationery  represented  the  taste 
of  the  wife  of  the  senior  partner.  As  he  stealthily  retired, 
Abel  softly  soliloquized  :  "  I  think  I  am  about  where  I 
ought  to  be  !  " 

Burnham,  seizing  on  the  one  grain  of  wheat  in  a 
mountain  of  chaff,  read  this  note  : 

386  MADISON  AVENUE, 
NEW  YORK,  August  20,  1889. 

DEAR  COUSIN  RALPH  :  Both  Harry  and  your  old  playmate  feel 
that  you  neglect  us.  Have  you  not  a  moment  to  spare  for  the 
woman  who  does  not  forget  that  she  was  Claire  Burnham,  even  if 
she  does  now  sign  herself 

CLAIRE  MORTON. 

"  Poor  Claire  !  "  softly  dropped  from  Burnham's  lips. 
The  gates  of  Time  rolled  back  and  showed  him  again 
her  earnest,  girlish  face,  full  of  eager  enthusiasm,  as,  lean 
ing  on  his  arm,  she  saw  the  Harvard  colors  flash  to  the 
front,  in  that  one  never-forgotten  boat-race. 


24  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Well,  it's  all  over.  Morton  is  a  man  of  mark.  She 
has  all  she  needs  in  this  world.  I  will  keep  away  from 
her  until  she  has  forgotten  the  foolishness  of  past  years. 
Yet  I  must  make  a  duty  call.  By  Jove  !  I'll  go  up  this 
afternoon  and  see  her.  I'll  send  her  some  flowers.  I'll 
make  the  little  woman  feel  cheerful." 

As  he  rapidly  disposed  of  the  mass  si  pro  forma  trash 
on  his  desk,  Burnham,  dreaming  over  his  cigar,  asked 
himself :  "  Would  it  be  too  soon  to  leave  a  card  on 
Marie  Ashton  ?  " 

Across  the  pathway  of  the  vanished  years — whence 
Claire  Morton's  sweet  dark  eyes  shone  on  him — there 
was  a  sapphire  flash  of  stranger  eyes.  The  echoes  of  a 
velvet  voice  thrilled  on  his  ear  :  "  It  is,  then,  only  au 
revoir  !  ' ' 

Striding  up  and  down  his  den,  nervously  tugging  at 
his  cigar,  Morton  dashed  open  his  window,  gaining  a 
near  view  of  a  beautiful  solid  cream-colored  brick  wall. 

"  I'll  see  the  '  old  man,'  and  take  a  day  off,"  he 
formulated.  "  I'll  send  Claire  her  flowers,  and — and — 
and " 

He  did  not  dare  to  openly  follow  out  the  haunting 
craving  of  his  fancy.  As  a  compromise,  he  mentally 
resolved  :  "I'll  have  a  drive  in  the  Park." 

Five  minutes  later,  Burnham,  with  unmoved  face, 
entered  the  office  where  Seth  Wise,  the  retired  financial 
Colossus,  in  grave  concourse,  was  communing  with  busy 
Morton. 

Dropping  into  a  chair,  he  nodded  to  each,  and  feigned 
an  interest  in  the  "bargain  columns  "  of  the  "  Herald." 

Seth  Wise,  rosy,  calm,  close-shaven,  and  sturdy,  with 
his  cold  gray  eyes  fixed  on  Morton,  was  dropping  sage 
remarks  on  "  securities,"  "  discounts,"  "  state  of  the  mar 
ket,"  and  other  shibboleths  of  the  Street. 

Morton,  a  forced  composure  on  his  impatient  face,  was 
silently  drinking  in  the  words  of  the  Nestor  of  the  firm. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  25 

A  neat,  well-set-up  Gothamite  was  Harry  Morton,  irre 
proachable  in  form — his  dark  glittering  eye  dancing 
uneasily — his  sensuous,  delicate  mouth  twitching  with 
the  nervous  excitements  of  the  day  before,  and  the 
imminent  trials  of  the  day  to  come.  His  exterior  bore 
few  signs  of  the  never-dying  fire  burning  beneath  his 
bosom.  Member  of  a  dozen  clubs,  director  of  twenty 
companies,  trustee,  executor,  and  all-round  financier, 
Harry  Morton's  life  was  bounded  by  the  pale  of  that 
crowded  arena  in  which  men  go  down  like  straws  before 
a  dash  of  hostile  financial  invaders. 

Just  as  his  club  memberships,  his  toga  of  titles,  his 
wide-spread  financial  involvements  dignified  him,  so  his 
wife,  his  house,  and  all  his  social  belongings  bespoke  the 
man  of  the  day  and  hour.  A  swell  New  York  financier  ! 

Seth  Wise  stumped  out,  with  a  good-humored  nod  to 
Burnham,  and  Harry  Morton  turned  to  Ralph,  his  eager 
hands  on  a  pile  of  letters,  despatches,  and  memoranda. 

"  Well,  Ralph,"  he  queried,  in  a  semi-interrogative 
mood. 

"  Harry,"  said  Ralph,  "  I  had  a  letter  from  Claire 
to-day.  She  gives  me  a  send-off  for  not  coming  to  the 
house.  I  think  I'll  go  up  this  afternoon  and  see  her." 

"  Do  so  !  do  so  !  my  dear  boy.  You  know  what  busi 
ness  is.  I  fancy  she  is  a  little  lonely  now  and  then." 
And  Harry  rattled  the  imposing  pile  of  papers  on  his  desk. 

"  Nothing  special  to-day  ?  "  perfunctorily  questioned 
the  junior  partner. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Nothing  for  you.  The  old  thing  !  The 
market  moving  to  every  point  of  the  compass  !  " 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  grateful  relief  that  Ralph  Burn- 
ham  stole  out  of  the  senior's  office,  his  last  thought  being  : 
"  What  a  slave  of  routine  !  " 

Morton,  furtively  watching  Burnham's  retreating  form, 
silently  ruminated  :  "  Ralph's  a  good  fellow,  but  has  no 
energy — no  push." 


26  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

In  entire  oblivion  of  this  mental  condemnation  by  his 
busy  senior,  Mr.  Ralph  Burnham  cheerfully  assisted  at  a 
complimentary  lunch  party  of  one,  dedicated  to  his  noble 
self.  Three  o'clock  found  him,  en  regie,  awaiting  the 
return  of  his  card  at  386  Madison  Avenue. 

Banks,  stocks,  Abel  Cram,  the  silent  partner,  and  his 
captious  chief  faded  from  his  mind  as  the  butler  told 
him,  sotto  voce,  the  basket  of  orchids,  with  his  card,  had 
preceded  him  by  an  hour. 

"After  all,  life  is  worth  living  in  New  York,"  was 
Ralph's  inmost  thought  as  Claire  Morton,  clad  in  cling 
ing  robes  of  white,  glided  into  the  room,  where  he  was 
industriously  nursing  an  irreproachable  hat  and  a  pair  of 
London  gloves. 

"So  kind  of  you,  Ralph!  They  are  simply  lovely," 
the  fair  chatelaine  began. 

Ralph's  smile  was  almost  tender  as  her  gentle  dark 
eyes  recalled  the  old  days.  "  I  must  ask  you  to  pardon 
me,  Claire,"  he  began,  in  a  strange,  nervous  manner. 
"  Business,  you  know."  The  usual  lie  ! 

Claire  Morton's  steady  eyes  burned  into  his  soul  as  she 
simply  said  :  "  We  see  so  little  of  you.  Harry  is  always 
engrossed  in  his  affairs,  and  you  know,  Ralph,  I  must  be 
lonely,  when  he  has  his  director  meetings  and  so  many 
things  to  keep  him  out  at  night." 

Burnham's  face  contracted.  The  old,  old  story  ! 
Director  meetings  at  night  !  !  Lassitude,  weariness, 
ennui)  falsehood,  and  dissimulation  !  Well,  he  knew  the 
fabled  excuses  of  the  man  who  had  borne  away  his  boyish 
sweetheart  in  triumph.  The  pace  is  set  the  same,  all 
over  the  world. 

"  I  have  only  you  to  look  to  for  friendship,  Ralph.  Do 
not  be  a  stranger  to  us." 

Burnham  thought  of  that  gracious  woman,  sitting  alone 
in  her  gilded  bird-cage,  and  his  mind  floated  back  to  the 
old  times — one  never-forgotten  day  !  Gazing  furtively 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  27 

at  her  beautiful  brown  eyes,  he   recalled  Longfellow's 
lines  : 

Once,  as  I  told  in  glee 
Tales  of  the  land  and  sea, 
Soft  eyes  did  gaze  on  me, 
Buming  yet  tender  ; — 
And  as  the  white  stars  shine 
On  the  dark  Norway  pine, 
So  on  this  heart  of  mine 
Fell  their  soft  splendor. 

And  yet  his  inward  monitor  told  him  :  "  She  willingly 
married  Morton.  I  was  forgotten.  I  had  no  chance. 
The  younger,  poorer  man  !  Ah  !  New  York !  New 
York  !  " 

In  his  nervous  impatience  to  leave,  Burnham  promised 
an  amendment  of  his  social  neglect. 

Paltering  with  himself,  he  felt  a  still  small  voice  in  his 
inmost  soul,  in  thrilling  accents  whispering  :  "  It  is,  then, 
only  au  revoir 7" 

As  Claire  Morton  stood  by  the  portiere,  Burnham's 
heart  smote  him  when,  with  her  wistful  face,  she  faltered  : 
'<  Don't  altogether  forget  me,  Ralph.  You  know  I  have 
only  you  to  lean  on,  if  anything  should  happen  to  Harry." 
Was  it  a  prayer — or  a  prophecy  ? 

As  Ralph  descended  the  steps,  he  felt  the  chill,  nervous 
strain  of  the  duellist  who  walks  away  from  his  enemy, 
soon  to  wheel  on  him  with  the  pistol.  He  knew  not  that 
a  mute  white  face  peered  after  him  till  his  form  disap 
peared — a  woman  murmuring  :  "  Ralph  !  Ralph  !  I  have 
ruined  your  life,  and  not  built  my  own  Temple  of  Happi 
ness." 

One  among  the  aching  hearts  hidden  by  New  York's 
sculptured  facades  !  One  more  lonely  woman,  with  every 
thing  at  her  call  save  heart — honor — love — devotion.  One 
of  Eve's  suffering  daughters  !  Another  sacrifice  on  the 
altar  of  the  Moloch  of  New  York — Fashion  I 


28  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Burnham's  cheerful  mood  returned,  while  he  listened 
to  the  click-click  of  his  trotters'  heels  speeding  over  the 
smooth  drives  of  the  Park.  Friendly  trees  nodded  to 
him.  Dimpled  dells,  flashes  of  greensward,  swaying 
branches,  and  dim  vistas  whispered  :  "  Here,  alone,  is 
peace  and  rest !  Abide  with  us  !  "  Even  the  faces  of 
the  Milesian  Park  policemen  were  grateful  to  the  over 
strained  nerves  of  the  driver.  Trifling  with  his  heart,  play 
ing  with  his  conscience,  the  moody  man  let  the  reins  drop 
on  the  smoking  steeds.  Was  it  direction  or  indirection 
that  drew  his  thoroughbreds  up  before  the  portals  of  the 
imposing  pile  on  Central  Park  West  where  Marie  Ashton 
sojourned  ? 

With  a  careless  nod,  Burnham  resigned  the  reins  to 
an  attendant.  In  a  few  moments  a  servant  answered  his 
card  :  "  Mrs.  Ashton  at  home  to  Mr.  Burnham."  As 
the  lift  bore  him  to  the  apartment  of  the  lady,  Burnham, 
with  singular  eagerness,  composed  a  set  speech  of  self- 
presentation.  One  brief  day  summed  up  their  acquaint 
ance.  Yet  already  it  seemed  an  age  to  his  eager  soul. 
What  could  he  say  ?  What  should  he  say  ?  Old  expe 
dients  failed  before  this  radiant  Goddess  of  the  Golden 
Dawn.  He  dared  not  confess  that  the  occupations  of 
his  whole  day  were  a  mere  prelude  to  seeing  her  once 
more — that  he  had  acted  a  base  part  in  his  self-decep 
tion.  It  flashed  over  him  he  had  only  deserted  his  duties 
to  see  her  bewitching  face  once  more.  While  these 
thoughts  surged  through  his  excited  brain,  he  was  at  the 
threshold.  u  Soft  as  the  falling  dews  of  night,"  a  voice 
was  heard  :  "  Come  in  !  "  It  was  the  open  sesame  of 
Paradise  that  day  to  Ralph. 

And  there,  in  that  lovely  bower,  with  her  face  and 
sunlit  eyes,  she  stood — the  lady  of  his  dreams.  With  a 
bright  smile  she  accepted  the  bunch  of  roses  he  had 
treasured  during  the  solitary  drive. 

It.  was  not  grave  surprise,  it  was  not  mad  coquetry,  but 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  2Q 

a  sweet,  satisfied  glance,  as  if  of  one  who  waited,  which 
the  sapphire  eyes  gave  him  as  he  seated  himself  beside 
her.  And  yet  her  lips  were  dumb. 

His  voice  sounded  harsh  and  dry  as  he  struggled  to 
say :  "  You  knew  I  would  come."  His  cheeks  burned 
as  she  bent  her  head  over  the  fragrant  flowers  in  her 
hand.  She  softly  said  :  "  I  hoped  you  would,  Mr.  Burn- 
ham  !  " 

A  little  golden  French  clock  ticked  away  noisily  on 
the  mantel,  as  Ralph's  delighted  eye  surveyed  the  ex 
quisite  daintiness  of  his  goddess'  bower.  Nothing  to 
accentuate  its  loveliness  could  be  more  perfect  than  that 
calm,  witching  face. 

Those  tempting  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile  too  sweet 
for  mocking,  too  sad  for  coquetry. 

Burnham's  beating  heart  oppressed  him  as  he  said  : 
"  Mrs.  Ashton,  I  was  driving  by,  and  felt  it  my  duty  to 
pay  my  respects."  One  turn  of  her  royal  head,  and  the 
thin  armor  of  conventionality  was  pierced. 

Ralph  arose  and  walked  to  the  window.  The  lady  of 
his  dreams  was  mute.  He  dared  not  trust  himself.  His 
fretting  horses  below  caught  his  eye.  "  Madam,"  he 
began,  hurriedly,  "  if  I  might  venture.  My  horses  are 
perfectly  reliable.  Would  you  honor  me  for  a  short 
drive  in  the  Park  ?  " 

Marie's  eyes  kindled.  With  a  sweep  of  a  magnificent 
arm,  she  indicated  the  difficulties  of  toilet.  "I  will  wait," 
he  almost  whispered.  With  a  faint  smile,  she  rose,  leav 
ing  him — as  a  vision  of  beauty  clad  in  floating,  clinging 
robes  of  pale  blue,  her  return  showed  him  an  elegante  in 
the  panoply  of  Worth  and  Pingat. 

Silently  down  the  stair  the  two  walked,  side  by  side. 
The  nodding  bays  dashed  away,  and  out  under  leafy 
bowers  and  spreading  branches  the  fleet  feet  bore  them 
— far  away  from  our  workaday  world.  Marie  sat  silent, 
her  dreamy  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy.  Burnham's  wrists 


30  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

ached  with  the  tugging  of  the  powerful  steeds.  Far 
away,  under  the  evening  shadows,  the  fleet  coursers 
dashed  along. 

In  the  freshness  of  the  falling  twilight,  under  the  play 
of  the  breezes  dancing  beneath  the  trees,  with  her  golden 
hair  blown  past  his  cheek,  her  bright  eyes  turned  on 
him,  Ralph  Burnham  only  prayed  :  "  May  this  go  on 
forever.  Forward  !  Onward  !  We  should  never  turn 
back." 

A  little  star,  peeping  in  the  eastern  blue,  recalled  them 
to  the  world.  Homeward,  under  the  growing  stars,  the 
tired  steeds  plodded,  dropping  wearied  heads  to  inhale 
the  freshness  of  the  night. 

Soft  and  sweet  as  the  notes  of  the  nightingale,  Marie's 
flute-like  voice  answered  Burnham's  eager  words.  It 
was  growing  dusk.  In  turning  his  head,  he  could  only 
see  the  outlines  of  that  queenly  form.  He  was  mad 
dened  by  the  faint  suggestion  of  the  perfume  of  her 
laces.  Two  blue  eyes,  rich,  deep,  and  burning,  flashed 
on  him.  His  whole  soul  melted  beneath  the  spell  of  this 
Circe  of  a  day.  In  gracious,  graceful  curves,  her  phys 
ical  contact  maddened  him.  Beneath  the  calm  reserve 
of  her  bearing,  his  ardent  soul  told  him  the  fires  of  Hecla 
were  blazing.  Ralph,  eager,  and  warmed  to  unusual  life, 
told  all  his  little  life-history,  save  the  one  episode  of  that 
sweet,  dark-haired  woman  who  had  shared  the  romance 
of  his  youth.  Even  in  his  delirium,  Claire  seemed  to  be 
a  being  apart — the  only  one — Claire  of  the  tender  eyes. 
Ever  fenced  around  with  the  delicate  memories  of  his 
chivalric  youth  ! 

To  the  woman  by  his  side,  Burnham  dared  not  address 
a  word  of  unmeaning  flattery.  For  she  was  to  him  the 
unconquered  Venus — the  Goddess  of  Life  and  Light  and 
Love.  Her  curved  red  lips  parted  in  a  meaning  smile, 
her  neck  gracefully  bent  against  the  evening  breeze,  her 
royal  arms  folded  over  limbs  of  sculptured  symmetry, 


DELILAH    OF   HARLEM.  3! 

and  the  nameless  thrill  which  made  his  heart  bound — all 
these  magic  tokens  bade  him  "  worship  here  and  wait." 
In  silence,  the  attendants  took  the  smoking  steeds. 
Burnham  stood  irresolute,  hat  in  hand,  to  say  "  good 
night,"  when  her  rooms  were  reached.  Marie  Ashton 
had  thrown  herself  on  a  violet  velvet  divan.  Beneath 
her  fringed  lashes  she  was  calmly  studying  the  man 
whose  heart-throbs  beat  upon  his  brain  like  trip-hammers. 

"  Be  seated,  Mr.  Burnham  !  "  she  said,  with  a  smile — 
a  command  in  itself.  "  You  have  given  me  a  happy  day. 
I  thank  you."  Rising,  with  a  nameless  grace,  she  glided 
to  the  piano.  "  You  are  tired.  I  will  sing  to  you." 

Burnham  never  could  forget  the  murmuring  flood  of 
plaintive  sound,  which  bore  on  its  bosom  this  little  Span 
ish  song  : 

"Yo  ME  RECUERDO." 

Yon  star  which  far  above  me  gleams, 

But  speaks,  my  own,  of  thee  ! 

The  night  winds  whispering  soft  and  low, 

In  murmured  melody  ; 

The  thrill  which  my  fond  bosom  owns, 

Beloved  as  thou  art, 

Is  life  blood  pulsing  true  to  thee — 

Within  my  faithful  heart  ! 

Come  to  my  arms  !     They  wait  for  thee  ! 

May  thy  dear  head  soon  rest, 

In  dreamless  slumber,  still  beloved, 

Upon  this  lonely  breast  ! 

The  hour  we  loved  ;  that  star  we've  watched  ; 

The  breezes  sighing  low, 

Bring  back  our  love,  eternal  sworn — 

The  bliss  we  only  know  ! 

As  the  last  strain  died  away,  Burnham,  with  wild  eager 
ness,  seized  the  trembling  hands  of  the  woman,  who  archly 
turned  to  him  with  a  smile  on  her  lip.  His  words  died 


32  DELILAH    OP    HARLEM. 

on  his  lip  as  a  rough  knock  on  the  door  presaged  the 
entrance  of  a  servant,  bearing  a  card  : 

MR.    THOMAS  OVERTON. 

The  entrance  of  Mr.  Overton,  brusquely  following  his 
announcement,  caused  Ralph  Burnham,  with  blazing 
eyes,  to  murmur  a  few  words  of  adieu — not  before  a 
formal  presentation,  during  which  Mr.  Thomas  Overton's 
eyes  were  double  interrogation  points.  Burnham  carried 
away  a  vision  of  his  graceful  divinity,  frozen  to  marble — 
one  shapely  hand  pressing  her  breast,  and  the  other 
waving  him  the  coldest  and  most  formal  adieu.  Home 
ward,  dazed  and  wondering,  chilled  at  heart,  and  still  on 
fire  with  passion,  Ralph  Burnham  rode,  his  ears  still  ring 
ing  with  the  sad  refrain  of  that  Spanish  song — his  weary 
brain  demanding,  in  sudden  jealousy  : 

"  Who,  in  God's  name,  is  Mr.  Thomas  Overton  ? " 

While  Ralph  Burnham  tarried  over  his  lunch  on  this 
eventful  day,  Mr.  Thomas  Overton  was  comfortably 
seated  at  his  favorite  table  in  the  Hoffman  House  saloon. 
Dimly  did  Mr.  Overton  recognize  the  beauties  of  this 
palace  of  New  York  bar-rooms.  Nymph  and  satyr,  in 
sensuous  entanglement,  wooed  him  not.  Tapestry  and 
bric-a-brac — splendor  of  silver  and  crystal — all  were  lost 
on  him.  For  Mr.  Thomas  Overton,  over  his  cold  punch 
ti  I  absinthe,  was  in  a  brown  study.  Jacketed  waiters,  sly 
racing  touts,  men  of  the  day,  sport  and  adventurer,  passed 
him  by,  tacitly  recognizing  "  one  on  the  turf." 

Overton,  calmly  enjoying  his  punch,  and  watching  the 
blue  smoke  of  a  Henry  Clay  float  away,  was  holding  a 
solo  council  of  war.  For  Thomas  Overton  had  burned 
his  ships,  and  was  face  to  face  with  desperate  fortunes. 
A  gambler's  luck  ! 

With  the  inbred  code  of  the  perfect  gamester,  his  mien 
was  never  as  serene,  his  face  as  unruffled,  or  his  smile 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  33 

blander,  than  when  he  grudged  the  waiter  the  liberal 
pourboire  laid  beside  his  check. 

Cleanly  shaven,  carefully  dressed  and  restrained  in 
manner,  there  was  nothing  in  Tom  Overton's  exterior  to 
indicate  the  rogue,  save  that  "  inevitable  diamond  "  and 
the  stern,  fixed  deadly  eye  flashing  coldly  above  smiling 
lips.  A  little  too  prononce  in  dress,  a  little  too  hawklike 
in  manner,  and  yet  Tom  Overton,  at  forty-seven,  was  an 
undeniably  handsome  man.  Three  guesses  would  settle 
Mr.  Overton's  status  in  any  civilized  centre  of  the  world 
— and  in  the  following  logical  order  :  First — racing  man  ; 
second — gambler  ;  third — desperado. 

It  would  have  troubled  Thomas,  as  he  sat  dallying 
with  his  last  good  cigar,  to  retrace  the  path  of  his  involved 
iniquities :  Drummer  boy,  deserter,  blockade  runner, 
bounty  jumper,  and  spy — his  war  record  was  a  "  glorious  " 
one  ;  mate  of  a  West  India  cigar  smuggler,  gambler  on 
far  Pacific  Railroad  trains,  saloon-keeper  at  Denver, 
mining  prospector,  and,  finally,  a  cold,  clean,  professional 
gambler. 

Mr.  Overton  never  shuddered  at  this  extended  life- 
history,  which  involved  several  homicides  (voluntary  or 
involuntary),  but  regarded  himself  calmly,  when  in  luck, 
as  a  case  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  When  out  of 
luck,  Mr.  Overton's  code  was  condensed  into  one  brief 
clause,  "  Not  to  whimper  or  squeal." 

So  far,  Thomas  had  abstained  from  the  exercise  of  the 
penultimate  degree  in  his  line,  for  stage  robbery  and 
murder  he  disdained.  Burglary  he  considered  the  trade 
of  fools,  and  bank  robbery — the  Omega  of  the  ladder  of 
intelligent  crime— was  denied  to  him,  as  a  field,  by  reason 
of  parental  neglect  in  not  giving  him  a  careful  mechani 
cal  education. 

As  the  sonorous  bells  of  the  splendid  clock  rang  out 
three,  Mr.  Thomas  Overton  pulled  himself  together  and 
nonchalantly  sauntered  out  of  the  Hoffman.  A  careless 


34  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

nod  here  and  there  proved  that  he  was  yet  in  the  swim, 
but  the  deep  rings  under  his  eyes  and  his  calmly  des 
perate  look  did  not  escape  the  hotel  "bouncer,"  who 
murmured  to  the  head  porter  :  "  Overton's  'way  down  on 
his  luck  !  " 

Selecting  a  less  fashionable  resort  for  a  self-commune 
of  two  hours,  the  astute  Thomas  summed  up  his  personal 
status  in  this  wise  : 

Assets:  $2.53. 

A  watch  and  chain. 

Several  diamonds,  rings,  etc. 

Liabilities  :  Not  worth  mentioning. 
Figures  fatigued  Overton. 

Future  :         Dark  and  gloomy. 

Too  proud  to  resort  too  quickly  to  the  vulgar  means 
of  raising  money  by  pawning  his  valuables,  Mr.  Overton 
fingered  once  or  twice  quite  uneasily  a  very  neat  Colt's 
police  pistol,  38  calibre,  3*72  barrel,  which  had  been  a 
friend  in  days  of  yore.  After  a  slight  revulsion  of  the 
nerves  caused  by  the  contact  of  cold  steel,  Mr.  Overton,, 
over  another  punch,  growled  :  "  Well!  I've  got  to  go  and 
see  Kate." 

With  careful  attention  to  his  dress,  Thomas  Overton 
waited  impatiently  the  approaching  hours  of  twilight. 
"  Out  on  some  of  her  society  rackets,  perhaps  !  Never 
mind  !  I'll  win  a  dinner  if  I  lose  the  time  !  "  he  growled, 
as  he  glared  at  his  watch. 

And  so  it  was  that  Thomas  Overton  had  the  temerity 
to  present  himself  in  the  boudoir  of  Marie  Ashton  at 
Central  Park  West,  and  postpone  the  expression  of  Ralph 
Burnham's  personal  enthusiasm. 

When  the  retreating  footfalls  of  Burnham  died  away, 
Mr.  Thomas  Overton,  who  had  been  decorously  seated, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  35 

hat  and  gloves  in  hand,  tossed  these  necessary  articles 
carelessly  on  the  piano,  and  roughly  remarked  to  Marie 
Ashton  : 

"  Well,  Kate  !  how  are  you  ?  " 

Then  into  the  listening  woman's  face  came  a  flash  of 
the  fury  with  which  the  tiger  guards  her  young.  "  Look 
out,  Tom  !  "  she  hissed.  "  I'll  have  no  nonsense  here. 
What  do  you  want  ?  "  Her  voice  rang  with  a  quiver,  not 
of  fear,  but  rage,  hate,  and  semi-madness. 

"  The  old  thing,  Kate.  Money  !  I'm  dead  gone 
broke.  The  races  !  " 

Marie  Ashton  rose,  with  a  devilish  sneer  on  her  pallid 
lips.  Striding  into  an  anteroom,  she  returned  with  a 
jewel  box  in  her  arms.  Seating  herself  on  the  piano- 
stool,  she  placed  the  box  on  the  cover  of  the  silent 
instrument. 

"  How  much  ?  "  she  demanded,  in  a  voice  as  cold  as 
the  ring  of  steel. 

"  Five  hundred,  I  guess  !  "  was  Overton's  lazy  reply, 
while  he  leered  at  her  under  the  smoke  wreaths  of  his 
half-consumed  cigar. 

"  Then  you  must  take  the  necklace,"  Marie  cried,  and 
sharply  added,  "  Get  out,  and  leave  me  !  "  She  threw 
him  a  diamond  chain,  whose  golden-linked  gems  flashed 
and  sparkled  in  the  dusky  chamber. 

Overton  fingered  the  rich  necklace  curiously.  A  cun 
ning  look  stole  over  his  devilish  face.  "  Who  was  that 
young  fool  who  went  out  of  here  just  now?  " 

"  I  won't  tell  you,"  the  woman  retorted,  turning  on 
him  like  a  tiger.  "  He's  no  man  to  be  degraded  by 
knowing  you  !  " 

Overton  smiled.  "  Now,  Kate  !  " — the  angry  woman, 
her  head  buried  in  her  hands,  winced  at  this  remark — 
"  I  know  that  team.  I  know  where  he  keeps  his  horses. 
I'll  find  out  myself." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Tom  !  " — the  woman   was  on   her 


36  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

knees  by  his  side — "  let  him  alone  !  He's  a  gentleman. 
He's  no  man  for  you.  I'll  do  anything.  Only  let  him 
alone  !  " 

"  Will  you  tell  me  who  he  is  ?  "  roughly  demanded 
Overton. 

The  silence  of  the  room  was  broken  by  the  sobs  of  a 
despairing  woman. 

"  By  heaven  !  I'll  tell  him  a  little  story  about  Colo 
rado."  Marie  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Hold,  for  God's  sake,  Tom  !  I'll  tell  you  all.  He's 
Ralph  Burnham,  junior  partner  of  Morton,  Burnham  & 
Co. — and  he's  a  gentleman. " 

A  broad  grin  relaxed  Overton's  features.  "  Sit  down, 
you  fool  !  "  he  cried.  "  He's  not  the  man  I  want.  I 
want  to  get  hold  of  Morton.  He's  a  game  sport.  He's 
the  senior  partner.  You  can  do  the  trick  !  " 

"  Never  !  "  cried  Marie — striding  up  and  down.  "  I 
will  not  entrap  this  man  and  see  him  ruined.  Go  afier 
Morton  yourself." 

Overton  calmly  pocketed  the  diamond  necklace  he  had 
been  idly  swinging  in  his  fingers.  Settling  himself  in 
his  chair,  he  quietly  proceeded  : 

"  Now,  Kate,  be  reasonable.  1  don't  care  for  this 
young  fool.  That's  your  business.  But  I  want  to  hook 
Morton  securely.  I'll  give  you  my  word  I'll  not  harm 
this  youngster.  There's  money  in  Morton.  He  is  loaded 
down  with  it — and — lie's  a  fool  with  women  !  " 

"What  do  you  wish  ?"  brokenly  murmured  the  de 
spairing  Delilah. 

"  I  propose  to  open  an  account  with  Morton,  Burnham 
&  Co.  I  propose  to  work  that  banking  house  for  all  it's 
worth.  I'll  let  your  particular  pet  alone,"  rejoined  Over- 
ton,  with  a  cold,  malicious  sneer.  "  When  you  have  got 
Morton  tied  to  your  apron-strings,  then  leave  him  to  me. 
You  can  fool  with  the  boy.  We  must  have  money — and 
then  get  out  !  " 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  37 

Marie  Ashton  sprang  to  her  feet.  With  blazing  eyes 
she  cried  :  "  Tom,  you  know  your  hold  on  me !  I'll 
divide  all  with  you  now — all  I  have  ;  but  let  this  thing 
drop.  You  can  go  away.  You  don't  need  me.  I  have 
earned  my  liberty.  Don't  push  me  to  the  wall." 

Overton  laughed  easily  as  he  glibly  answered  :  "  My 
dear  Kate,  you  undervalue  yourself.  Listen  to  me.  I 
have  dropped  about  all  I  have.  I  am  desperate.  I  may 
get  on  my  feet  now.  But  luck  has  run  against  us.  You 
are  doing  the  devilish  quiet  act,  and  I  don't  propose  to 
fool  away  a  whole  year.  I  can  make  a  big  winning  on 
this  fellow  Morton,  but  I  have  got  to  know  him  right. 
He's  got  the  money  of  the  firm.  Now,  you  stand  in 
with  me  !  If  you  don't,  by  heaven  !  I'll  give  Mr.  Ralph 
Burnham  a  little  history  that  will  wake  him  up.  I'll  not 
hurt  him.  You  can  get  out  of  here  safely,  Kate.  We'll 
clear  out,  and  try  Europe.  Once  there,  you  are  safe. 
If  you  stand  by  me  now,  I'll  let  you  go.  I  swear  I 
will." 

And  Marie  Ashton,  shaken  and  broken,  looking  in  his 
eyes,  was  fain  to  believe  the  man  who  lied  in  his  heart, 
over  the  very  wine-cup  in  which  he  pledged  her. 

When  the  distant  church  bells  rang  ten,  Overton  de 
scended  the  stair,  after  a  studied  dinner,  with  a  smile  on 
his  face.  He  was  gayly  pressing  his  hand  on  the  diamond 
necklace.  Whistling  merrily  as  he  walked  a  few  blocks 
to  catch  a  passing  car,  he  proudly  cried  :  "  By  Jove  ! 
she's  a  witch — the  Witch  of  Harlem  !  I've  got  the  whole 
game  now  !  " 

And  while  Ralph  Burnham  tossed  in  uneasy  drearns, 
in  which  Overton's  malignant  face  appeared,  his  own 
soul  burning  in  mad  unrest,  Marie  Ashton,  with  dry  and 
watchful  eyes,  counted  the  shadows  on  the  walls,  and 
begged  a  God  she  dared  not  kneel  to,  to  spare  Ralph 
Burnham  from  the  overhanging  shadow  of  Tom  Overton's 
deviltry. 


38  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 


CHAPTER    III. 
OVERTON'S    ACCOUNT    OPENED.      IN    THE    POOL-ROOM. 

THE    MOTH    AND    THE    CANDLE. 

MR.  THOMAS  OVERTON'S  sleep  that  night  was  calm 
and  serene.  The  consciousness  of  duty  done,  sweetened 
a  balmy  repose  on  his  lonely  pillow.  As  the  agglomer 
ated  noises  of  New  York  recalled  him  to  the  daily  round 
of  honorable  toil,  Overton  finished  his  morning  devo 
tions  by  feeling  for  his  revolver  and  the  diamond  neck 
lace.  Strangely,  they  were  not  under  the  head  of  his  bed, 
but  beneath  the  mattresses  in  the  middle.  Overtoil  play 
fully  termed  this  device  a  "  Colorado  safe." 

After  the  matutinal  cocktail — a  sacred  ceremony — 
Thomas  the  good  gazed  inquiringly  at  the  racing  reports 
in  the  "Herald,"  and  proceed*ed  to  array  himself  with 
great  care  for  his  Wall  Street  debut.  With  rare  delicacy, 
he  abjured  the  diamond  horseshoe  pin,  and  left  at  home 
his  glittering  solitaire  ring  hidden.  In  a  sober  but  stylish 
dark  suit,  he  was  very  taking,  and  chuckled  as  he  saw 
his  counterfeit  presentment  in  the  glass. 

"  By  heavens  !  "  he  murmured,  "  I  look  like  a  bishop." 
Gazing  around  his  modest  room — for  he  had  a  lair  un 
known  to  the  "madding  crowd  "-—Thomas  slipped  his 
pistol  deftly  in  his  hip-pocket,  and  stowed  away  Marie 
Ashton's  necklace  in  the  inner  recesses  of  his  vest.  As 
he  tucked  it  away,  he  grumblingly  admitted  :  "  She's 
dead  game.  Not  a  whimper  !  Well,  I'll  pull  it  off  and 
give  her  this  back,  and  a  pair  of  ear-sparklers  to7 boot." 

Steadily  to  the  Hoffman,  Thomas  paced  down  the 
quiet  morning  streets.  His  black-bordered  handkerchief 
and  banded  hat  spoke  loudly  of  a  widowed  man  of 
affairs.  It  "was  only  natural  that  his  pet  barber  ("  ton- 
sorial  artist,"  per  the  signs)  should  tremblingly  inquire  ; 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  39 

"  Death  in  the  family,  sir  ? "     Thomas  bowed  his  head 
gravely  in  silent  reverie.     A  crushing  grief ! 

It  is  a  matter  of  history  that  the  astute  Overton  had 
been  training  his  mobile  face  for  several  hours  to  the 
needed  solemnity  of  the  man  of  business,  per  se. 

A  light  breakfast  despatched  in  the  Hoffman  cafe,  Mr. 
Overton  briskly  walked  across  Madison  Square,  casting 
furtive  glances  to  right  and  left — lest  his  roving  associ 
ates,  or  some  chance  acquaintance,  might  see  him  enter, 
the  jungles  of  Third  Avenue. 

Rapidly  entering  a  small  pawn-shop,  where  the  gilded^ 
insignia  of  the  Medici  proclaimed  "  Money  to  Loan," 
Thomas,  without  a  word,  passed  out  the  necklace  to  Mr. 
Jacobs,  the  gentlemanly  proprietor.  Mr.  Jacobs'  dark 
Semitic  eyes  flashed  with  joy  as  he  fingered  the  rich  bau 
ble.  His  blue,  close-shaven  face  purpled  with  the  instant 
effort  to  appraise  those  gems  to  the  last  cent.  Around 
his  feet,  several  small  Jacobs,  images  of  his  own  dear 
Rebecca,  sported.  That  lady,  loose  of  waist  and  in 
carpet  slippers,  peered  in,  gathering  up  her  wandering 
brood,  and  furtively  whispering,  "  Breakfast,  Isaac." 

While  Overton  gazed  on  the  assortment  of  old  clothes, 
bicycles,  mandolins,  key-bugles,  decayed  books,  broken 
flutes,  brass  rings,  antique  cameos,  cheap  clocks,  and 
battered  plated  ware — flanked  by  battalions  of  wheezy 
watches — making  up  the  stock  stage-set  of  the  pawn 
broker,  Jacobs  huskily  whispered,  with  a  suppressed 
groan  :  "  How  much  you  vant,  Mr.  Overton  ?  " 

"  A  thousand,"  firmly  ejaculated  Thomas.  Heredi 
tary  heart-disease  seemed  to  haunt  Jacobs  as  an  over 
hanging  curse.  He  staggered,  and  clapped  his  hands  on 
his  greasy  vest,  with  its  enormous  pendent  chain  and 
flashy  diamond  locket.  Recovering  himself,  a  low  whis 
tle  escaped  his  lips  : 

"  Veil  !     You  vas  a  high-flyer  !  " 

"  Look  here,  Jacobs  !     No  nonsense  !     I  can  get  it  in 


40  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

a  minute  at  Simpson's.  Shall  I  go  down  ?  It's  right  on 
my  way,"  snappishly  said  Thomas. 

"  Oh,  if  you  vas  dead  set  for  it,  I  guess  you  vas  got  to 
get  it,"  babbled  Jacobs,  as  he  drew  out  a  greasy  check 
book  and  gave  the  surly  Thomas  a  check  for  an  even 
thousand  dollars. 

Dropping  the  necklace  into  the  cotton-lined  drawer  of 
a  cavernous  safe,  Jacobs  handed  to  Overton  a  scrawl  pur 
porting  to  be  a  pawn  ticket. 

Overton,  pocketing  the  check  and  ticket,  turned  to  go. 
"  Hold  on  !  You  now  vas  to  stand  de  drinks,  Mr.  Over- 
'ton  !  "  Tom  nodded  briefly.  A  sop  to  Cerberus  !  They 
strode  across  the  dirty  avenue  to  the  nearest  "  Tammany 
depot."  There,  a  wild-eyed  Irish  youth  was  filling  quart 
bottles  with  the  day's  allowance  of  poison,  and  a  dilapi 
dated  African  was  mopping  up  the  tessellated  floor. 

This  little  social  ceremony  accomplished,  Overton  care 
lessly  nodded  to  Jacobs,  and  made  a  sudden  sortie  on  a  car. 

"  He  blays  de  races  awful  strong.  He's  a  grade  high 
flyer,  dat  fellow,"  perorated  Jacobs,  as  he  departed,  his 
mouth  full  of  cloves,  to  rejoin  the  anxious  Rebecca,  whose 
first-born  was  making  wild  Judaic  signals  from  the  open 
door  of  the  unprotected  pawn-shop. 

A  customer  was  already  waiting. 

Overton,  in  the  most  cheerful  humor,  bumped  over  the 
fanged  stones,  until  he  reached  Franklin  Square.  "  I'll 
wait  till  bank  hour,  cash  Jacobs'  check,  and  look  in  on 
my  young  friend  Burnham  a  little  later,"  he  plotted. 

With  rare  delicacy,  and  a  conservative  regard  for  the 
past,  Thomas  heightened  his  gentle  seriousness  by  walk 
ing  once  or  twice  around  St.  Paul's  and  Trinity  Church 
yards.  A  well-defined  plan  was  maturing  in  that  busy 
brain,  under  its  decorous  thatch  of  black  silk  hat  and 
crape  band.  The  devil  never  sleeps  ! 

At  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  in  bright  sunshine,  Mr.  Over- 
ton  quietly  entered  the  office  of  the  great  firm  of  Morton, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  41 

Burnham  &  Co.  His  thousand  dollars,  in  crisp  bills  of 
fifty  dollars  each,  was  carelessly  thrust  in  his  dark  mo 
rocco  pocket-book.  There  was  business  in  its  very  look. 

Scanning  the  interior  of  the  mahogany-decked  bank, 
whose  address  he  had  gained  at  Jacobs'  depository,  Mr. 
Overtoil  quietly  sent  in  his  card  to  Mr.  Ralph  Burnham. 

Nothing  could  be  more  utterly  correct  than  the  neatly 
engraved  script : 


Denver,  Colorado. 


Mining  magnate,  rancher,  operator — all  these  titles  were 
at  his  beck  and  call. 

Seated  in  the  general  reception-room,  Overton,  ex 
tended  on  a  sumptuous  Spanish  leather  lounge,  scanned 
idly  the  financial  columns  of  the  daily  journals.  His 
watchful  eyes,  with  lightning  flashes  in  them,  rested  now 
and  then  on  the  yawning  vault  door,  with  its  great  wilder 
ness  of  bars,  straps,  and  bolts. 

Double  doors  were  these.  The  inner  bristled  with 
mysterious-looking  combination  knobs  ;  on  the  outer,  a 
flaring  time-lock  dial  gazed  at  him  like  the  watchful  eye 
of  a  Cyclops. 

Was  it  professional  ambition,  or  mere  bravado,  which 
caused  the  gentleman  from  Denver  to  wink  deftly  at  that 
time-lock  clock-dial,  and  whisper  :  "  I'll  see  you  later, 
my  chalk-faced  friend." 


42  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Overton  was  quickly  disturbed  in  his  generous  plans 
for  his  own  future  comfort  by  the  whining,  soft-drawn 
voice  of  Mr.  Abel  Cram. 

"  Our  Mr.  Burnham  is  not  down  yet,  sir.  If  your  time 
is  valuable,  I  might  show  you  in  to  Mr.  Morton — our 
managing  partner." 

"  By  no  means  !  I  am  a  man  of  leisure.  I'll  await 
Mr.  Burnham.  I  presume  he  will  be  soon  here,"  Overton 
replied— studying  furtively  this  aggregation  of  all  the 
commercial  virtues  before  him. 

"  Very  good,  sir  !  "  softly  uttered  Cram.  "  I'll  give 
him  your  card  the  moment  he  comes."  Abel  Cram 
glided  noiselessly  out  of  the  door,  with  his  conventional 
business  smirk. 

"  Sneak  and  hypocrite  !  "  the  man  from  Denver  men 
tally  summed  up  the  chief  clerk's  character,  as  he 
nursed  his  regalia.  "  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him.  Looks 
breachy  !  " 

In  five  minutes  Ralph  Burnham,  followed  by  Maxwell, 
strode  into  the  reception-room.  Late  again  ! 

Burnham's  good-natured  face  took  a  graver  shade  as 
Overton  rose. 

«  Mr. —  Mr. — "     Burnham  was  at  fault. 

*'  Overton,"  calmly  said  the  man  from  Colorado.  "  I 
had  the  honor  of  meeting  you  last  night,  at  my  friend 
Mrs.  Ashton's." 

A  bright  red  spot  burned  on  Burnham's  cheek,  as, 
with  affected  carelessness,  he  said  :  "  Walter,  step  into 
my  office.  I'll  join  you  presently."  Maxwell,  seated 
in  Ralph's  easy-chair,  toying  idly  with  a  paper-knife, 
softly  whistled  a  bar  or  two  from  "  Nadjy,"  and  under 
his  breath  remarked  to  his  own  handsome  shadow  in 
the  mirror  :  "  Hard  hit,  old  man  !  Last  night  at  Mrs. 
Ashton's  !  Well,  anything  to  get  Ralph  out  of  the 
dumps.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  prejudiced  against 
Harlem." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  43 

In  concise  terms,  Thomas  Overton  concluded  his 
business  with  Burnham. 

"  I  have  some  mining  and  other  interests.  I  may  have 
to  keep  an  active  account  in  New  York.  I  would  like  to 
open  a  deposit  account  with  your  firm,  Mr.  Burnham. 
My  business  relations  are  mostly  with  Denver  proper 
ties." 

Burnham  bowed  courteously.  The  calm,  self-contained 
applicant  looked  far  different  from  the  half-raffish  visitor 
of  the  past  night. 

"  Been  out  with  Western  men,  I  suppose.  Rough 
diamond  !  "  soliloquized  Burnham.  "  In  very  good  form 
to-day." 

Ralph  led  the  way  to  the  manager's  desk,  and  the 
potent  signature  of  Thomas  Overton  was  registered — 
his  account  being  opened  with  a  deposit  of  seven  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars. 

Quietly  pocketing  a  little  check-book,  Overton  re 
marked  :  "  I  have  some  stocks  and  bonds  I  would  like 
to  deposit  with  you  for  safe  keeping." 

"  Most  certainly,  Mr.  Overton.  Mr.  Cram  will  give 
you  a  private  box  in  one  of  our  vaults,  and  show  you 
every  attention." 

"  Pray,  don't  let  me  keep  you  from  your  friend," 
remarked  Overton,  with  ready  wit,  as  he  felt  the  business 
interview  was  at  an  end.  Overton  never  was  tiresome. 

Passing  out  of  the  bank,  Thomas  mentally  photo 
graphed  the  interior — as  Ralph  Burnham  sped  away  to 
rejoin  Maxwell. 

"  Here  is  my  Austerlitz  or  Waterloo  !  Which  ?  "  gayly 
ruminated  the  man  from  Colorado,  as  he  measuredly 
sauntered  down  Wall  Street. 

"  By  the  way,  I'll  take  a  lobster  a  la  Newburg,  and  a 
look  at  the  ticker,"  was  the  second  thought  of  the  new 
depositor.  Overton  always  nursed  his  nerves. 

Three    squares   traversed,    he    entered    one    of   those 


44  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

down-town  haunts  where  Bacchus  is  king  and  the  vota 
ries  of  Fortune  crowd  around  the  long  paper  tape.  In 
the  back  room,  racing  pool  tickets  were  rapidly  issuing 
to  that  motley  crowd  of  masters,  middlemen,  clerks,  and 
even  porters  who  play  the  horses. 

High  noon  sounded  as  Overton,  well  satisfied,  finished 
that  artistic  luncheon,  which  was  an  integral  portion  of 
the  advance  on  Marie  Ashton's  diamonds. 

Suddenly  his  brows  knitted.  With  lightning  glance 
he  had  conned  every  passer-by.  At  the  door,  fumbling 
over  the  yards  of  tape  in  the  basket,  Mr.  Abel  Cram 
was  intently  deciphering  the  cabalistic  sporting  data  of 
the  day. 

With  an  amused  smile,  Overton  watched  the  cadaver 
ous  clerk,  who  glided  past  the  bar,  after  a  hasty  dash  of 
Bourbon,  and  disappeared  in  the  pool-room. 

"  Ah  !  playing  the  races,  Brother  Cram  !  You're  my 
man  !  "  was  the  sardonic  sneer  of  the  gentleman  from  the 
West. 

Planting  himself  squarely  at  the  gorgeous  bar,  Overton 
awaited  the  exit  of  Cram,  who  soon  returned,  hastily 
placing  several  fateful  coupons  in  his  vest  pocket. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  softly  remarked  Overton,  as  he  inter 
cepted  the  departing  clerk,  "pray  join  me.  I  have  a 
prejudice  against  drinking  alone." 

Abel  Cram  was  startled  ;  Overton's  calm,  uncommuni 
cative  eye  was  fixed  on  those  telltale  pool  tickets  peeping 
from  Cram's  higher  watch-pocket. 

In  silky  tones,  Abel  sniffled  :  "  I  will  make  an  excep 
tion,  Mr.  Overton.  Business,  you  know,  is  so  engross 
ing  !  " 

As  Cram,  with  flushed  face,  disappeared  ten  minutes 
later,  having  reenforced  his  nerves  with  two  strong  cock 
tails,  he  thus  eased  his  soul  :  "  Must  be  polite  !  I  may 
have  been  seen.  Wouldn't  do  for  the  firm  to  know." 

And  Thomas  Overton  chuckled  softly,  as  he  threw  the 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  45 

bar-keeper  a  dollar  bill :  "  Yes,  you  will  make  an  excep 
tion  for  me,  Mr.  Abel  Cram." 

The  gambler  lingered  long  enough  in  the  pool-room  to 
allow  the  clerk  to  stealthily  regain  his  financial  foyer.  A 
cold  whiskey  punch  imparted  to  Tom  the  sage  deduction 
that  hurry  spoils  all.  "  Never  rush  your  luck,"  was  a  car 
dinal  motto  of  the  man  from  Colorado. 

Yawning  gracefully,  he  sauntered  out  of  the  room,  and 
sought  a  modest  bayside  hostelry  near  the  South  Ferry. 

Entering  a  large  room,  where  two  weary  bar-keepers, 
and  a  pile  of  very  ancient  oysters,  were  the  chief  orna 
ments,  he  rested.  Sundry  gaudy  fancy  bottles,  garnished 
with  fearful  counter-presentments  of  wicked  actresses, 
allured  the  stray  mariner  and  the  tired  longshoreman. 
It  was  a  cheap  city  front  bar,  the  theatre  of  many  a  dark 
mystery.  Overton  called  down  a  pony  brandy  on  the 
wolfish-looking  Milesian  in  charge. 

After  the  renewal  of  the  usual  "  pleasing  assurances," 
Thomas  sharply  asked,  "  Where's  Riley  ?  " — Overton  was 
a  power  here,  by  day  and  night. 

The  laconic  Ganymede  answered,  "  Up-stairs—asleep." 

"  Wake  him,"  quietly  said  Tom. 

"  I  don't  dare  to,  Surr  !  "  answered  the  robust  youth. 
"  I  do  be  afeard  of  him  in  his  ugly  times." 

"  Show  him  this,"  cried  Overton,  and  he  cut  a  saloon 
card  in  a  peculiar  fashion.  "  Get  up  there,  now,  quick, 
and  wake  him." 

Something  in  Overton's  eye  compelled  instant  obedi 
ence.  In  a  few  moments,  cursing  and  raving,  Riley,  the 
Boniface,  rolled  down  the  stairs.  On  seeing  Overton,  his 
wolfish  face  softened  a  bit.  Unsteadily  ambling  to  a 
private  recess  of  the  bar,  he  drew  out  an  old  black  bottle. 
Lifting,  with  shaking  hand,  a  glass  of  the  "best  in  the 
house,"  he  leered  at  Overton  and  wheezed,  "  Shin  Fain  !  " 
Thomas  deftly  engulfed  the  portion  allotted  to  him. 

Grasping  a  handful  of  good  cigars,  Riley,  with  blood- 


46  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

shot  eyes — not  devoid  of  cunning — cried  :  "  Come  into  me 
office.— Now,  me  bye,"  gutturally  wheezed  Riley,  closing 
the. door  of  his  den,  "we're  as  safe  as  the  grave.  F'what 
is  it  ?  " 

In  tones  not  too  eager,  Overtoil  explained  his  projected 
raid  on  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co.,  with  no  reference  to 
Marie  Ashton. 

"And  f'what  will  you  do  with  these  man  jackeys  ?  " 
cried  Riley. 

u  I  am  going  to  get  a  solid  pull  on  that  confidential 
» clerk,"  cried  Overtoil — his  stern  face  a  bit  pale. 

"  And  to  what  end  ?  "  cried  Riley. 

"  They  keep  a  half-million  in  their  vaults,  Riley  !  " 
said  Overton,  his  voice  trembling  slightly.  "  If  I  can  get 
this  fool  of  a  clerk  to  set  that  time-clock " 

"  And  thin — and  thin  ?  "  said  Riley,  half  rising. 

"  Well  !  I'll  do  the  rest,"  resolutely  said  Overton. 

"  I  don't  see  where  ye'll  get  in,  me  bye,"  paternally 
beamed  Riley.  "  There's  them  divils  of  combinations 
inside  them  time-locks."  His  voice  was  feeble. 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  said  Overton.  "  I'm  dead  square 
on  that.  He's  a  racing  crank,  and  I  can  pull  him.  After 
that,  I'm  on  velvet !  " 

Riley's  eyes  enlarged.  "And  f'what  do  ye  want  me 
to  do  ?  "  he  queried. 

Overton  quietly  said  :  "  Look  here,  Riley  !  You've 
got  the  stuff  !  I  want  a  few  thousand  dollars  put  in  and 
out  of  the  bank  on  my  account  in  the  next  month.  I  want 
to  make  a  business  show  !  " 

1  An'  if  you  drew  it  ? "  Riley  doubtfully  remarked. 

"  I'll  come  here  and  put  my  neck  in  your  power,"  said 
Overton.  "  I've  got  a  wad  there  now." 

"  An'  what  will  ye  do,"  sceptically  cried  Riley,  "if  ye 
make  a  winning?" 

"  Skip  !  "  sententiously  remarked  Overton,  "  and  you'll 
have  your  share.  You'll  see  me  off." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  47 

"  I'm  yere  man,  if  ye're  square,"  cried  Riley — his  red 
eyes  gleaming  with  avaricious  fires. 

"I'll  come  down  to  you  to-morrow,"  said  Overton. 
The  cabalistic  "  Shin  Fain  "  was  repeated  as  Riley,  in  a 
half-hour's  whispered  conversation,  got  an  inkling  of 
Overton's  game. 

There  were  broad  grins  on  Riley 's  fat  face.  He 
whispered  to  Tom  :  "  Catch  the  felly  on  his  down  luck  ! 
Lend  him  a  few  tenners,  and  ye  have  him  in  yere  power 
forever  !  " 

"  I'll  make  me  deposits  in  yere  bank  to  yere  credit  and 
ye  can  draw  lively  checks  agin  it,"  said  the  sage  Riley, 
"  but  ye'll  not  leave  the  house  when  I'm  riskin'  this 
boodle  ?  " 

"Fair  enough,  Riley!"  heartily  cried  Overton.  "I'll 
be  down  to-night.  I'm  going  to  lay  for  this  fool  of  a 
clerk  now." 

"  D'ye  want  any  money  for  him  ?  "  Riley  cried — mas 
tered  by  Overton's  cool  confidence. 

"  No,  I've  got  enough  for  a  couple  of  days.  I'll  call 
on  you  when  I  need  it,"  replied  Overton,  with  the  senti 
ment  of  a  man  with  a  bank  roll. 

"As  ye  plaze,  Tom  !  Try  another  drop,"  cried  Riley, 
waving  the  whiskey  bottle. 

Overton  was  a  quarter  of  a  block  away,  when  Riley 
concluded  his  soliloquy  over  the  "  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect  ! " 

"  He  may  make  a  winnin',''  grumbled  Riley,  as  he 
climbed  the  stair,  after  swooping  on  the  contents  of  the 
cash  register.  "  Ah  !  he's  a  divil  !  " 

At  five  o'clock,  Thomas  Overton  quietly  sauntered  into 
the  saloon  whence  Abel  Cram  fled  at  noon.  With  un 
moved  face,  he  scanned  the  ticker.  Holding  a  handful 
of  pool  tickets  in  his  hands,  he  joyously  noted  the  coming 
home  of  his  ships  from  sea.  He  was  a  big  winner. 

Daintily  fingering  the  little  fateful  slips,  he  wandered 


48  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

into  the  back  room,  and  cashed  the  coupons  in.  Keen- 
forced  by  several  hundred  dollars,  he  stood  off  and  on. 
Would  Cram  never  come  ? 

His  calm  face  betrayed  no  anxiety.  "  The  bank  closes 
at  five  o'clock.  If  my  man  is  dead  game,  he  will  be  here 
soon." 

Trifling  with  a  Manhattan  cocktail,  Tom's  lynx  eyes 
sought  the  mirror  in  front.  At  5. 15  exact,  Abel  Cram 
dashed  into  the  room.  Eagerly  scanning  the  ticker,  he 
leaned,  in  utter  exhaustion,  against  the  bar,  his  watery  eyes 
half -shut. 

"  Gim-me — gim-me — a  gin  fizz  !  "  he  huskily  cried. 
In  his  left  hand  a  bunch  of  pool  tickets  was  tightly  clasped. 
As  Abel  Cram  lifted  the  cool  refection  to  his  lips,  Tom 
Overtoil  quietly  said:  "And  how  are  the  horses  to-day, 
Mr.  Cram  ?  "  Abel  winced.  His  frightened  eyes  sought 
the  entourage  which  was  not  there.  "  Hellish  luck  !  " 
muttered  Abel — as  he  thrust  out  a  sheaf  of  tickets. 
Overton  calmly  reviewed  the  bunch  of  Jonah  certificates. 
"  Bad  judgment,  my  dear  boy  !  You're  a  good  finan 
cier  " — Cram  smiled  a  sickly  smile — "but  you're  no 
racing  man.  Now,  look  here  !  " — and  Overton  deftly 
drew  out  the  morrow's  programme  from  the  rack — "  here 
is  a  dead  square  winning  !  "  In  a  moment  their  heads 
were  together.  Murmurs  of  "Potomac,"  "Raceland," 
"Banquet,"  "Tea  Tray,"  "  Firenzi,"  "  Salvator," 
"  Tenny,"  and  "  Ban  Fox  "  broke  on  the  air. 

Cram  listened  for  a  long  five  minutes,  and  smote  his 
breast.  "  Fool  !  Fool  I  am  !  And  now  I  can't  go  in." 

Thomas  Overton  quietly  gazed  at  Cram.  "  And  why 
not  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  I've  gone  dead  wrong  on  these  horses  to-day,  Mr. 
Overton.  I'm  a  man  on  a  salary." 

"  My  dear  boy  !  "  remarked  Thomas  in  a  genial  voice, 
"  let  me  make  your  book  for  to-morrow.  Now,  go  and 
scatter  these  tickets  as  I  tell  you." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  49 

Abel  Cram  glared  at  his  Mephisto.  "Mr.  Overton,  I 
can't  go  in  !  "  he  cried,  with  a  despairing  voice. 

Overton,  in  his  most  gentle  manner,  quietly  handed 
him  five  twenty-dollar  bills.  "  Mr.  Cram,"  he  suavely 
said,  "  buy  twenty  tickets  on  my  advice.  If  you  lose — 
you  can  only  have  the  laugh  on  me  !  " 

Abel  fingered  the  bills — and  peered  at  this  Haroun-al- 
Raschid  of  the  turf. 

"You'll  be  all  right  to-morrow  night,"  cheerfully 
remarked  Overton.  "  Don't  you  fret  !  " 

And  over  a  magnum,  the  man  from  Colorado  and  the 
lantern-jawed  clerk  raved  about  the  staying  power  of  the 
equine  heroes  of  the  coming  day. 

"  But  where  shall  I  see  you,  Mr.  Overton  ? "  cried 
Cram. 

"  I  am  always  here  at  five,"  placidly  remarked  Over- 
ton.  "  The  whiskey  is  better  here  than  in  any  other 
place  on  lower  Manhattan  Island." 

As  Cram,  clutching  his  newly  acquired  pool  tickets  in 
his  pockets,  fled  away — Tom  Overton,  with  Spartan 
brevity,  remarked,  "  D d  fool  !  " 

Burnham  was  a  little  astonished  in  learning  of  Over- 
ton's  large  business,  several  days  later,  when  he  faced  the 
astute  Cram  with  his  morning  report.  He  had  visited 
Central  Park  West  several  times,  and  was  nervously 
trembling  on  the  eve  of  another  Harlem  voyage.  "  Who 
the  d 1  was  Overton  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Burnham  !  "  the  clerk  remarked  interrogatively. 
Ralph  lifted  his  face  with  well-disguised  annoyance. 
Cram  stood  en  sentinelle.  "  Do  you  know  anything  of  the 
affairs  of  Mr.  Overton  ?  "  Abel's  rasping  voice  queried. 

"  Not  much,"  cried  Burnham,  in  savage  humor,  as  he 
buried  his  nose  in  his  newspaper.  An  ill-defined  jeal 
ousy  filled  his  soul.  Always  Overton  ! 

"  What  is  it,  Cram  ?  "  he  said  testily. 

"  Well,  sir,  he's  been  moving  a  good  deal  of  money  in 
4 


50  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

and  out  of  the  bank,  and  Mr.  Morton  would  like  to  see 
you  about  it." 

"  Oh  !  He's  one  of  those  dashing  Western  men," 
called  out  Burnham.  fi  All  speculators  !  Don't  bother 
me,  Cram  !  I'm  sick  of  all  this  detail.  Give  him  no 
overdrafts — that's  all." 

Abel  Cram,  hiding  in  his  vest  pockets  the  winning 
coupons  of  seven  races  out  of  nine,  discreetly  retired. 
"  I'll  report  to  Mr.  Morton,"  softly  dropped  Cram,  as  he 
made  his  noiseless  exit. 

"  Devil  take  Overton  and  his  money  !  "  was  Ralph's 
mental  prayer.  "  I  suppose  he  is  some  rough  and  ready 
millionnaire  from  the  West.  "  He's  a  cad  !  "  he  remarked, 
with  an  inward  criticism  of  Overton's  garb  on  that  mem 
orable  night. 

Papers,  figures,  and  memoranda  danced  before  Ralph's 
eyes,  until  he  could  decently  make  his  afternoon  exit. 
"I  think  I'll  take  a  spin,"  he  remarked,  as  he  gazed  at 
the  storm  signals,  doubtfully  flying  on  the  high  tower, 
..cynosure  of  New  Yorkers. 

Burnham  was  glad  that  a  drenching  rain  was  an  excuse 
for  calling,  when  he  drew  up  before  Marie  Ashton's  door. 

"  Put  them  in  the  shed.  Treat  them  well,"  he  laconi 
cally  remarked,  as  he  thrust  a  bill  in  the  hand  of  the 
grinning  head-porter.  His  repeated  visits  made  him  a 
familiar  feature  of  the  social  whirl.  Heart-beat  and 
pulse-throb  marked  his  agitation  as  he  softly  walked  the 
silent  halls  to  Marie  Ashton's  rooms.  He  was  more 
wildly  mad  every  day  with  burning  passion,  and  jealousy 
of  Overton  spurred  him  on.  "  By  heavens  !  I  will  speak,", 
he  cried. 

Before  entering,  he  heard  that  siren  voice  pealing  out, 
and  as  the  door  clashed,  a  dead  silence  supervened. 

The  servant,  eyes  askance,  said  :  "  The  lady  will  re 
ceive  you,  sir  !  " 

It  was  only  his  foot  on  the  very  threshold  which  startled 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  51 

the  dreaming  divinity  at  the  piano.  Marie  Ashton  rose, 
her  rare  smile  glowing  on  the  marble  of  her  lovely  face. 

"  How  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Burnham  !  In  all  this  rain, 
to  come  to  me  !  " 

And  in  five  minutes,  Ralph  was  yet  more  blindly  under 
her  magic  spell. 

"  Surely  you  will  have  something.  A  cup  of  coffee  !  " 
And  the  deity  glided,  in  undulating  curves,  to  the  bell. 
With  an  arch  glance,  she  said  :  "  You  know  you  are  my 
prisoner — this  rainy  afternoon." 

"  Surely,  you  are  not  without  company  !  "  cried  Burn- 
ham,  with  unconscious  jealousy.  "  Mr  Overton  !  " 

Marie  Ashton  leaned  back,  in  a  hearty  peal  of  laughter. 
"  Dear  old  Tom  !  My  brother's  partner  !  He  handles  all 
my  tiresome  business  affairs." 

Burnham's  heart  leaped  into  his  throat.  He  gazed 
with  burning  eyes  on  the  lovely  woman  before  him.  Her 
friend  Overton  was,  then,  only  her  adviser. 

As  the  servant  placed  a  dainty  coffee  service  on  the 
table,  Marie  gayly  cried  :  "  Take  courage,  faint-hearted 
knight !  Mr.  Overton  left  for  Denver  to-day,  to  be  away 
three  months.  He  is  not  such  an  ogre,  after  all." 

Ralph,  toying  with  his  cup,  was  strangely  moved  to 
joy. 

"You  know  my  life  would  be  an  absolute  solitude," 
Marie  continued,  "  unless  I  had  one  faithful  friend.  Poor 
dear  old  Tom  !  He  is  no  squire  of  dames.  He  is  a 
miner.  His  treasure  is  gold  only."  And  she  merrily 
laughed,  as  Burnham's  stern  face  relaxed. 

Ralph  stammered  a  few  words  of  banal  apology. 

In  womanly  frankness,  Marie  Ashton  turned  to  him, 
with  dignity.  "Mr.  Burnham,"  she  softly  said,  "there 
are  relations  in  life  beyond  all  social  criticism.  Mr. 
Overton  is  the  trustee  of  my  business  affairs.  I  am  alone 
in  the  world."  And  she  calmly  gazed  from  the  window 
at  the  cold  drifting  rain,  slanting  across  the  casement, 


52  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Burnham  rose,  his  throat  choking,  his  fiery  eyes  glued  on 
that  calm  set  face,  gazing  out  into  the  storm. 

"  Mrs.  Ashton  !     Marie  !  "  he  hurriedly  began. 

He  was  talking  blindly  now  to  her  left  shoulder. 

His  words  multiplied  themselves  wildly — his  sole 
reward  was  a  murmur  from  a  bowed  head  :  "  Leave  me, 
Mr.  Burnham,  I  beg  you  !  Leave  me  !  " 

And  as  she  spoke,  a  glimpse  from  her  starlit  eyes 
maddened  the  excited  man,  whose  die  of  life  was  haz 
arded  on  seeing  her  again.  Her  back-blown  hair — that 
faint,  haunting  perfume — the  ringing  accents  of  the 
voice,  stilled  at  his  coming,  thrilled  his  very  inmost  soul. 
He  strode  swiftly  to  her  side,  and  grasped  the  shapely 
white  wrist,  on  which  a  diamond  snake  was  gleaming. 

"  My  own  darling  !"  he  cried,  as,  on  his  knees,  he  mur 
mured,  "  don't  send  me  away  !  " 

"  Mr.  Burnham,"  Marie  cried,  looking  at  the  desperate 
man  before  her,  "  leave  me — I  beg  of  you  !  " 

"  Never !  "  cried  Ralph.  "  Not  that  I  am  fool  enough 
to  think  you  love  me.  But,  could  you  learn  to  love 
me  ?  "  he  cried,  covering  her  white  arms  with  passionate 
kisses. 

Stepping  back — a  queen  in  her  grand  self-control — 
Marie  Ashton  softly  whispered  :  "  Mr.  Burnham  !  " 

A  dead  silence  reigned.  The  noisy  clock  ticked  its 
clicking  refrain. 

His  heart  stood  still.  Was  it  life  or  death  to  his  mad 
love  ?  No  sound  from  the  man  whose  burning  lips  were 
pressed  to  her  cool,  white,  shapely  arms  ! 

With  a  wrench,  she  cried  :  "  Ralph,  for  God's  sake,  I 
am  not  made  of  iron  !  Go  !  Go,  for  God's  sake  !  Go, 
with  my  love  and  blessing  !  Never  let  me  see  you 
again  !  " 

She  moved  swiftly  to  the  door  of  her  private  rooms. 
At  the  threshold,  Burnham  caught  her  by  the  wrists,  his 
blazing  eyes  piercing  her  very  soul. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  53 

"You  love  another  !  I'll  not  live  the  night  out !  "  he 
raved.  He  was  on  his  knees  before  her. 

Passing  her  soft  white  hand  over  his  brow,  she  whis 
pered  :  "  By  the  God  above,  I  do  not  !  " 

Ralph  sprang  to  his  feet  and  strained  her  to  his  bosom, 
crushing  her  in  a  mad  embrace.  "  And  I  may  hope  ! 
Darling  !  my  own  !  my  queen  !  " 

"  This  is  madness  !  "  she  whispered.  "  You  hardly 
know  my  face.  You  know  nothing  of  my  life."  Her 
eyes  were  blinded  with  tears. 

"  Away  with  your  past  !  The  future,  the  golden 
future,  I  claim  as  my  right,"  he  whispered.  His  arms 
were  around  her — he  was  wildly  kissing  the  bloodless 
lips  of  a  half-fainting  woman.  Marie  broke  away  from 
his  grasp. 

With  a  swing  of  her  supple  form  she  swiftly  moved 
toward  the  open  door.  At  the  threshold  she  paused, 
turning  a  white  face  toward  him. 

"  Go,  leave  me  now,  if  you  wish  ever  to  see  me  again," 
she  sternly  cried.  "  Don't  wait  a  moment  !  " 

"  Can't  you  trust  me,  Marie  ?  "  Burnham  cried  in  an 
guish. 

"  I  can  trust  you,  Ralph.  I  cannot  trust  myself,"  she 
faltered.  "'  For  God's  sake,  go  !  You  will  rue  this 
day  !  " 

"Mine  be  the  risk,"  Ralph  eagerly  interrupted  as  he 
caught  her  in  his  arms. 

And,  half-unwilling,  as  her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder, 
while  the  twilight  shadows  deepened  she  whispered  : 
"  Ralph,  I  would  spare  you.  But  you  will  not  have  it  ! 
I  can  love  you.  I  know  you  love  me." 

"  I  swear  it,"  he  wildly  cried. 

"  Then,  ours  be  the  day  of  love  and  life,  but  when 
the  parting  comes,  think  of  me  as  one  who  would  have 
spared  you,"  she  fondly  murmured,  her  arms  around 
his  neck. 


54  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Only  death  shall  part  us,"  was  Ralph's  impassioned 
answer. 

"  Ah  !  God  !  "  she  sobbed,  and  threw  herself  in  his 
arms.  "  Too  late  !  Too  late  !  " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

GOLDEN     HOURS.       ON      THE      RACE     TRACK.       AT     CLARE- 
MONT.       A    VANISHED    VENUS. 

THE  storm  clouds  rolled  away.  Stars  were  sprinkling 
the  clear  blue  when  Burnham,  unwillingly,  left  the  Circe 
whose  spell  was  on  him. 

His  heart  bounded.  An  insane  joy  filled  his  bosom. 
For  Marie  Ashton's  last  whisper,  as  her  clinging  arms 
folded  on  his  neck,  was,  "  To-morrow  !  " 

With  parched  lips,  he  had  murmured,  "  To-morrow  !  " 
between  parting  kisses  which  burned  like  fire. 

Tossing  a  bank  bill  to  the  attendant  who  brought  his 
chafing  trotters,  Ralph  turned  their  heads  up  the  boule 
vard.  Away  sprang  the  steeds,  eager  for  action.  Burn- 
ham  reckoned  not  his  pathway.  In  the  cool  night  hours, 
every  sighing  breeze  whispered  :  "  She  loves  me  !  She 
loves  me!"  The  white  stars  twinkled  to  him:  "To 
morrow  !  To-morrow,  we  will  light  your  path  to  her  once 
more  !  " 

Turning  after  an  hour's  drive,  as  the  tired  horses 
gently  trotted  homeward,  Ralph  recalled  every  moment 
of  the  golden  hours  whose  ecstasy  still  lingered.  Frag 
ments  of  her  history,  hints  of  an  unhappy  past — all  these 
half-confidences  returned,  for  his  only  care  had  been  to 
gaze  into  her  eyes  and,  with  throbbing  heart,  exult,  "  She 
is  mine  !  " 

As  Ralph  gave  up  the  reins,  at  the  stable,  to  the  hostler, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  55 

he  mechanically  replied  to  that  worthy's  salute,  as  he 
gazed  in  dismay  at  the  horses  :  "  You've  gone  a  long  way 
to-day,  Mr.  Burnham  !  " 

With  these  unthinking  words  in  imitative  refrain  : 
"  Yes  !  I've  gone  a  long  way."  A  long  way  on  the  road 
of  life — a  road  which  fed  him  into  Paradise,  he  fondly 
exulted. 

Bright  morning  sunbeams  threw  their  golden  lances 
long  over  spire  and  tower  before  Ralph  awoke  from  rosy 
dreams.  With  exultant  heart,  he  unconsciously  gave  to 
his  toilet  an  unwonted  attention. 

"  The  bank  !  Yes  !  "  He  must  go  down  !  He  must 
earn  his  conge  of  the  afternoon. 

He  turned  a  cheerful  face  on  Mr.  Abel  Cram,  as  he 
summoned  that  factotum  to  his  presence. 

"  Anything  new,  Mr.  Cram  ?  "  queried  the  happy 
lover,, 

"  Nothing  special,  sir,"  rejoined  the  smiling  Abel,  ab 
sently,  his  mind  fixed  on  future  harvests  of  the  turf. 

"  By  the  way,  Cram,"  briskly  said  Ralph,  diving  into 
his  morning  mail,  "  have  you  seen  Mr.  Overton  ?  " 

Cram  started.  "  Mr.  Overton  !  Mr.  Overton  !  Why, 
yes,  sir,"  he  responded,  catching  his  nerve  again.  "  He 
came  into  the  bank  yesterday  afternoon,  after  you  left, 
sir.  He  deposited  a  lot  of  stocks  and  bonds  in  our 
vaults,  and  left  his  address  :  '  First  National  Bank,  Den 
ver.'  He  told  me  he  should  be  two  or  three  months  in 
Colorado.  He  was  to  take  last  night's  train  west." 

"Very  good!  That  will  do,  Cram,"  nodded  Ralph, 
as  the  clerk  disappeared. 

Burnham  felt  an  inward  joy.  Overton  was  out  of  the 
way. 

"  Stocks  and  bonds  !  "  mused  Ralph.  "  He  must  be  a 
man  of  some  means.  I  hope  his  business  will  keep  him." 

The  tin  box  in  the  vault  bearing  the  name  "  Thomas 
Overton  "  was  of  imposing  dimensions.  Tt  contained  a 


56  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

goodly  assortment  of  those  superbly  engraved  Western 
collaterals,  whose  artistic  merit  is  far  beyond  their 
availability  in  the  mere  money  marts. 

Burnham  could  not  know  the  joyous  chuckle  with  which 
Tom  Overton  filled  that  receptacle  in  presence  of  Abel 
Cram  !  "  Looks  well,  and  I  d*n't  mind  if  the  cashier 
carries  the  whole  lot  to  Canada.  Pretty  fair-looking 
collateral  for  the  West  ?  " 

The  man  from  Denver  continually  haunted  Burnham's 
mind.  The  rosy  morning  gleams  faded,  and  the  young 
banker  recalled  Marie's  despairing  cry  :  "  Too  late  ! 
Too  late  !  "  Vague  jealousy  still  hounded  him  on  to 
wild  conjectures.  Was  she  Overton's  dupe  ?  Was  her 
fortune  his  objective  point?  Overton's  air  of  easy 
familiarity  returned.  Was  she  in  his  power,  tied  up  by 
the  will  of  a  resentful  husband,  who  carried  suspicion 
beyond  the  grave  ? 

"  I  have  enough  for  both  of  us,"  Ralph  murmured, 
"but  I  must  know  all  her  past  to  guard  her  future." 

A  dozen  times  he  consulted  his  watch  ;  a  score  of 
glimpses  at  the  office  regulator  punctuated  his  corre 
spondence.  The  hours  crawled  along  with  leaden  heels. 

Burnham  enjoyed  a  grim  satisfaction  in  despatching  a 
messenger  boy  to  his  florist's  with  a  pencilled  order  to 
send  the  choicest  marvels  of  his  graceful  wares  to  the 
new  sacred  temple  on  Central  Park  West. 

While  Ralph  dreamed  of  Marie's  sapphire  eyes  and 
shapely  silver  shoulders — while  he  quivered,  in  memory  of 
her  back-blown  tresses,  and  the  soft  contact  of  her  form, 
moulded  in  the  attributes  of  the  Idalian  goddess — Abel 
Cram  furtively  studied,  under  a  pile  of  drafts,  checks,  and 
certificates,  the  cabalistic  jargon  of  the  track. 

"  By  heavens  !  Overton  could  pull  me  out  with  a  few 
more  such  tips." 

Cram's  "  cash  "  was  only  a  score  of  hundreds  short. 
Alas  !  poor  fool  !  rolling  that  ball  easily  before  him — 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  57 

how  quickly  it  grew.  The  reality  was  denied  to  his 
heated  imagination. 

Abel  watched  the  clock-hands  drag  along  to  high  noon, 
and  then  fled  away  furtively  to  the  pool-room.  Lunch 
eon  hour  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  Eager  speculator, 
insane  betting  crank,  sly  spy,  and  thievish  employee 
often  hail  the  halt  in  the  day's  occupation.  Fair  "  lady  " 
typewriters,  their  cheeks  flushed  with  reenforced  sodas, 
demurely  return  from  an  ostensible  bowl  of  bread  and 
milk — with  lingering  memories  of  a  broiled  bird  and  a 
"  small  bottle  "  ! 

Treachery,  dissimulation,  secret  vice,  and  mad  dissipa 
tion  discreetly  veil  themselves  on  the  return  from  that 
"blessed  noontide  hour." 

As  Cram  dashed  into  the  little  back  room  in  the  pool 
headquarters  for  his  "  latest  news  from  the  front,"  the 
presiding  genius  of  Bacchus  handed  him,  with  his  change, 
a  little  twisted  note.  Cram's  eyes  twinkled  with  delight. 

Only  a  lead-pencil  scrawl  : 

Detained.      Meet  me  here  at  six  to-night. — O. 

"  By  Jove  !  I'm  glad,"  Abel  muttered,  as  he  twisted 
up  the  little  paper  and  lit  a  cigar  with  it.  "  Overton  can 
put  me  on  a  good  thing  or  two." 

With  deep  sighs,  Abel  fingered  the  five  twenty-dollar 
bills  he  must  remember  to  return  to  the  Colorado  gentle 
man.  He  had  no  safe  opportunity  in  the  bank. 

Abel  Cram  agreed  exactly  with  the  absent  Overton. 
It  was  indeed  his  design  to  put  Cram  into  a  good  thing. 

While  Marie  Ashton,  gazing  in  her  glass,  was  choosing 
battle  harness  of  price,  to  encounter  her  ardent  lover — 
her  chattering  negro  maid  flying  around  the  apartment 
in  excitement  ;  while  Burnham,  at  a  directors'  meeting, 
nodded  his  silent  votes,  and  scrawled  monograms — "  M. 
A.,"  and  brief  sketches  of  a  haunting  face  on  the  pad 
before  him  —  fingering  his  watch  in  eagerness  ;  while 


58  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Abel  chafed  in  the  duress  of  honest  daily  duty — Thomas 
Overton  was  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  "  Riley's 
Hotel  !  " 

A  discreet  morning  interview  with  Marie  Ashton  had 
closed  Tom  Overtoil's  public  social  career  in  New  York 
for  a  time.  With  plain  and  bitter  words,  Overton 
announced  his  temporary  disappearance.  The  negro 
maid  had  unfolded  to  him  Burnham's  unceasing  pres 
ence. 

"  Now,  I'll  be  near  you.  Don't  you  lisp  my  presence 
in  town.  If  you  spoil  my  game,  I'll  spoil  yours, 
my  lady,"  he  muttered  sternly.  "  Send  that  darky  to 
this  address  three  times  a  week  for  letters.  If  you  obey 
me,  I'll  let  you  alone  ;  if  you  don't,  I'll  attend  to  the  case 
in  my  own  way." 

Marie  Ashton,  gazing  on  his  retreating  form,  murmured 
to  herself  : 

"  Down  the  stream  always  !  Always  down  !  And  yet, 
I  will  drift — drift  with  the  tide  for  a  few  happy  days. 
Poor  Burnham  !  He  knows  nothing — suspects  nothing. 
I  can't  fight  Overton — I  dare  not.  He  must  have  his 
way — but,  he  shall  spare  Ralph  !  "  Her  face  was  as  stern 
as  the  Medusa. 

Overton  easily  lounged  away  his  afternoon,  in  the  com 
fortable  quarters  of  Riley,  until  the  evening  shadows 
began  to  gather  in  Wall  Street.  The  stream  of  human 
ants  poured  out  of  splendid  bank  and  dingy  den, 
as  by  side  streets  he  reached  the  pool-room  unob 
served. 

Long  before  this,  Burnham,  in  a  close  coupe,  was  wind 
ing  along  to  the  new-found  idol  of  his  heart. 

Overton,  an  evening  paper  in  his  hands,  shading  his 
glittering,  restless  eyes,  sat  in  the  pool-room  saloon,  his 
glances  alternating  on  a  clock-dial  and  the  lattice-shaded 
door. 

"  If   I  can  get  this  white-livered  sneak  in  my  power, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  59 

I'll  make  Kate  do  the  rest,"  Tom  mused.  "  I'll  find  a 
way  to  trap  Morton.  She  has  never  failed  me  yet,"  he 
coldly  grinned.  "  But  I  must  pull  this  fellow  first  to  his 
knees,  and  then  keep  him  enslaved  afterward." 

These  innocent  plans  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Abel  Cram.  Overtoil  quietly  retired  to  a  card-room, 
with  a  wink  to  the  lean  clerk,  who  was  paying  his  toll  at 
the  rosewood  counter. 

As  Abel,  with  expectant  eyes,  entered  the  private 
room,  Overton,  carefully  exploring  the  exterior  surround 
ings,  locked  the  door  on  his  return. 

"  I  sent  for  you,  Cram,"  the  gambler  genially  began, 
"as  I  was  detained  on  a  matter  of  business.  I  wish  to 
arrive  out  West  quietly,  and  look  over  some  matters 
there,  but  this  is  worthy  of  waiting  for."  Tom  touched 
the  bell  for  "  a  bottle  of  wine  " — the  generic  American 
order  for  champagne  ! 

When  the  silver-necked  flask  in  its  ice  jacket  was  in 
its  place  of  honor,  Overton  pledged  Abel  as  the  servant 
retired. 

"  Here's  luck  !  "  he  amiably  cried. 

"  Here's  luck  !  "  reechoed  Cram's  feverish  voice.  The 
gambler's  toast !  Abel's  eyes  were  burning. 

"  Now,  Cram,"  continued  Overton,  as  he  handed  him 
a  Perfecto,  "  did  you  see  the  great  Salvator  and  Tenny 
race  ? " 

"  I  did  not,"  Abel  quickly  answered  ;  "  I  have  to  be  so 
prudent.  They  don't  like  a  sporting  man  in  banks." 

"Oh!  I  see,"  Overton  carelessly  rejoined.  "Firm 
pretty  strait-laced  ?  "  His  eyes  were  a  pair  of  interro 
gation  points. 

"  Not  exactly  so — only  old  Seth  Wise  pokes  about, 
watching  his  silent  capital.  Morton's  a  devilish  good 
fellow  !  "  Abel  expatiated,  glowing  with  the  wine.  "  Fond 
of  a  glass,  runs  his  yacht,  goes  to  the  races  now  and 
then,  is  a  first-nighter,  and  deuced  fond  of  a  pretty 


60  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

woman — oh  !  he's  not  strait-laced — not  by  a  jugful !  " 
The  vulgar  hound  enjoyed  scandalizing  his  master. 

Abel  pulled  at  his  replenished  glass,  and  affected  the 
man  of  the  world. 

"  Fond  of  women,  eh  ! "  Overton  softly  repeated, 
caressing  his  not  over-silky  mustache. 

"  Dead  gone  on  them,"  Abel  cried,  with  the  airs  of  a 
lady-killer.  "  He  slips  off  to  the  French  Ball — catches 
on  at  Koster  &  Bial's — I've  cashed  in  a  few  of  his  checks 
— from  Tiffany's,  Arnold  &  Constable's,  Kate  Reilly's, 
and  all  that  sort  !  Little  outside  presents,  you  know  !  " 
Abel  babbled  on,  with  the  scorn  of  the  servant  for  his 
master's  luxurious  vices,  denied  to  men  of  the  baser  sort. 

"  Why,  I  thought  his  wife  was  young  and  pretty," 
Overton  carelessly  interjected. 

Cram  brought  his  hand  down  on  his  knee  with  a 
resounding  slap  :  "  An  angel  of  beauty  !  Too  good  for 
him  !  Family  woman,  high  pride,  and  all  that!  You 
see,  she's  a  distant  relative  of  old  Seth,  who  watches 
over  her.  And  she's  Burnham's  cousin,  you  know." 

Overton  gravely  nodded.  Tom's  hand  was  busy  with 
the  wine.  The  clerk  continued,  his  tongue  a  little 
thicker  :  "  Morton  is  on  velvet.  He's  got  the  money. 
Old  Seth  can't  pull  him  down.  Seth  backs  the  firm  and 
throws  the  big  accounts  in  :  but  Morton  has  plenty  of 
cash.  Pie  can  draw  what  he  wants  outside,  and  then  old 
Seth  is  muzzled.  He  gets  tired  of  Madison  Avenue,  and 
has  his  regular  fling.  But  he's  very  sly  and  foxy.  He's 
got  a  private  letter-box  at  his  barber's." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  broke  in  Tom,  startling 
Abel. 

"  I'm  solid  with  the  barber.  We  all  keep  an  eye  on 
the  bosses  !  "  Abel  chuckled.  "  You  see,  Overton,"  Abel 
exulted,  "  they  all  watch  us.  We  are  dogged  around, 
and  all  the  boys  in  the  bank  get  pointers  on  the  firm." 

"  Right  enough  !  "  cheerfully  laughed  Overton,  nudg- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  6l 

ing  Abel,  as  he  refilled  his  glass.  "  And  old  man  Wise — 
he's  dead  square  ?  "  Overton  queried. 

"  Oh,  yes,  now  !  "  thoughtfully  babbled  Abel.  "  Used 
to  be  a  regular  terror.  Got  over  it  all  now.  Goes  in 
for  long  day's  work,  regular  habits,  austere  virtue,  and 
all  that.  He's  a  deadly  man  to  run  against,  though." 
Cram  shuddered. 

The  clerk  became  thoughtful. 

"  And  Burnham  !  "  Overton  softly  followed  up. 

"  Burnham's  a  gentleman,  every  inch.  Thoughtless, 
takes  it  easy,  makes  friends  for  the  firm,  and  an  all  right 
out-and-out  thoroughbred.  Used  to  be  sweet  on  his 
cousin.  That's  how  he  got  into  the  firm.  He's  got  no 
money  to  speak  of.  Bless  you,  he  don't  worry  !  He's 
solid  with  old  Seth,  and  his  lady  cousin.  Old  times, 
you  know  !  He  don't  bother  to  work  hard,  as  a  junior 
should.  Why,  Morton  himself  shows  up  with  the  combi 
nation,  and  opens  the  vaults  every  day.  Burnham  then 
wanders  down  at  eleven,  and  sets  the  style  for  the  firm. 
He  wouldn't  get  up  if  the  bank  was  closed  till  noon.  You 
see,  I  run  the  time-lock,  and  we  put  the  day's  books 
inside  the  outer  door.  But  Morton  is  the  working  man  !  " 
Abel  exulted. 

Yellow  gleams  flashed  over  Overton's  devilish  eyes — 
"  Morton  never  makes  a  break  on  business  ?  "  There  was 
a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

Abel  ran  along  in  his  history  :  "  Never  yet,  except 
when  sick.  You  see,"  he  proceeded,  the  strong  wine 
making  him  confidential,  "  we  keep  the  other  combina 
tion  in  the  Sub-Treasury.  Poor  Burnham  was  routed  out 
once  or  twice,  and  it  took  him  half  an  hour  to  open  the 
inner  vault.  Why,  I've  known  a  half-million  in  notes  and 
a  cool  million  in  bonds  in  that  vault,"  proudly  cried 
Abel.  "  We  carry  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  for 
daily  business  alone  !  " 

"A  strong  firm  !  "  complimentary  said  Overton. 


62  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  I  should  say  so  !  "  energetically  remarked  Cram, 
bringing  his  glass  down  with  a  bang  and  splintering  it. 
In  vino  veritas  ! 

The  hospitable  Overtoil  rang  the  bell.  Another  bottle 
appeared,  with  a  fresh  service. 

Overton,  seriously  minded,  consulted  his  watch  :  "  Now, 
Cram  !  "  he  commenced,  "  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  little 
show.  I  want  to  talk  business  to  you  !  " 

Abel  shamefacedly  produced  the  hundred-dollar  loan. 

Overton  waved  it  away.  "  Put  that  up  now.  Listen 
to  me  !"  Over  his  glass,  Abel  was  on  the  qui  vive  / 
"Salvator  beat  Tenny  in  that  big  race,  you  know." 
Abel  bowed  his  head  wisely.  "  They  are  going  to  run 
a  return  match  in  three  days.  Now,  I'm  a  Western  man. 
I  know  both  sides  of  this  fight.  There's  a  cordial  hatred 
between  the  owners  of  the  horses.  The  jockeys  don't 
care  a  rap.  I  really  waited  over  for  this." 

"  What's  the  tip  ? "  eagerly  demanded  Abel,  his  eyes 
lighting  up. 

"The  odds  are  3  to  i,  or  2  to  i,  on  Salvator.  That's 
the  public  notion.  Fools  they  are  !  Now,  Tenny  will 
win  ;  Salvator  loses,  hard  held  or  on  a  foul.  I  was  down 
at  the  track  yesterday.  I'm  on  the  inside  !  " 

"  Dead  sure  ? "  slowly  said  Abel — shivering  with  ner 
vous  excitement. 

"  I  shall  put  ten  thousand  on  Tenny,"  nonchalantly 
answered  Overton.  "  That's  why  I'm  on  the  quiet  till  this 
thing  is  off.  Then  I  go  to  Colorado.  I've  got  men 
picking  up  the  biggest  odds  for  me,  up  at  the  hotels." 

"I'll  go  in  on  it" — Abel  quickly  replied — "on  your 
word." 

"  On  my  word  !  "  Overton  frankly  retorted.  "  How  far 
can  you  get  in  ?"  Tom  quietly  questioned. 

"  If  it's  dead  sure,  I'll  take  a  couple  of  thousand,"  the 
clerk  answered,  his  self-importance  having  risen  with 
successive  beakers. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  63 

"  Right  you  are,  my  boy  !  "  genially  cried  Overton, 
slapping  him  on  the  back.  "  You've  got  the  real  nerve. 
Now,  meet  me  here  to-morrow  night.  Can't  you  get 
down  to  the  race,  day  after  to-morrow  ?  I  am  going 
over,"  the  gambler  carelessly  said,  as  he  sought  for  his 
hat  and  cane. 

"  See  here,  Overton  !  "  Cram  anxiously  ejaculated. 
"  I'd  like  to  'go  with  you.  I  am  afraid  to  put  that  money 
on  by  myself.  I'd  like,  you  to  do  it  for  me.  I  can  sham 
off  for  a  day.  None  of  the  boys  will  be  there.  I'll  get 
'  sick  '  the  afternoon  before." 

"  That's  a  good  scheme,"  cried  Overton..  "  Some  fool 
might  give  you  away  here,  if  you  plunged.  I'll  meet  you 
here  to-morrow  night." 

In  five  minutes,  the  room  was  vacant.  How  many 
devilish  schemes — how  many  midnight  treacheries — how 
many  foul  deeds,  have  been  plotted,  finished,  or  slowly 
achieved,  under  the  tawdry  mahogany  wainscot  of  that 
little  back  pool-room  ! 

Other,  rooms  sacred  to  the  service  of  the  devil  were 
near  by,  with  similar  records.  A  sober  side  entrance,  of 
decorous  appearance,  admitted  to  the  second  floor  the 
sly  and  wanton  wife — the  erring  ingenue,  her  heart  beating 
with  a  nameless  terror — and  the  hawk-eyed  adventuress, 
light  of  finger  and  stony  of  heart,  whose  pallid  cheeks 
long  since  had  forgotten  to  blush  under  the  overlying 
paint  and  bismuth. 

Gambler,  schemer,  sly  crook,  rascal  touts,  and  fleeing 
embezzler  found  here  a  safe  retreat,  as  long  as  the  crisp 
crackle  of  the  green  bank-note  electrified  the  sphinx-like 
waiters.  As  Overton  watched  Cram  leave  these  silent 
shades,  where  a  discreet  silence  reigned,  he  smiled.  A 
Moloch  grin  ran  over  his  set  face. 

"  I've  got  you  now,  Mr.  Abel  Cram  !  And  so  Burnham 
was  sweet  on  his  cousin  !  Old  times — quite  a  romance  ! 
Well,  I'll  bring  these  loving  hearts  together  again.  Burn- 


64  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

ham  shall  console  the  beautiful  prude.  Morton  !  Yes, 
I  must  throw  him  against  Kate.  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Marie  !  "  He  smiled,  waving  his  cigar  gracefully — "  We 
are  in  high  society  now.  I  must  throw  Morton  across 
that  young  fool  and  Kate.  He's  got  the  money  and  the 
combination.  I've  got  to  do  it.  But  how— but  how? 
I  must  think." 

In  this  professional  dilemma,  Overton  regained  slowly 
the  protection  of  Riley's  castle. 

With  flushed  face  and  throbbing  pulses,  Abel  Cram  sat 
in  his  modest  rooms,  after  a  circuitous  voyage.  His 
dinner  was  a  light  one.  While  Overton  digested  calmly 
the  good  things  provided  by  Riley — who  lived  "  at  home  " 
—Cram  pondered  on  the  method  of  raising  the  cash  for 
the  great  race. 

"  I'm  a  couple  of  thousand  behind  now.  If  I  take  my 
stake  out  of  the  collection  account,  I'm  safe  till  the  end 
of  the  month.  I'll  have  it  all  back  before  then."  Abel 
dreamed  those  rosy  dreams  which  haunt  the  votary  of 
hazard,  who  has  a  "  dead-sure  tip." 

On  the  memorable  night  of  Overton's  impromptu 
champagne  supper,  three  men  whose  fates  were  strangely 
linked  together  slept  in  a  Fools '  Paradise. 

Tom  Overtoil's  slumbers  were  haunted  by  a  magic 
combination  to  unlock  the  steel  doors  of  Morton,  Burn- 
ham  &  Co.'s  vaults.  He  murmured,  in  his  uneasy  rest : 
"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  !  A  million  in  bonds  ! 
Kate  and  I  in  Europe  !  Morton  knows — yes,  Morton  !  " 

Cram's  sealed  eyes  bore  brain-imprinted  pictures  of 
Tenny  racing  past  Salvator,  under  the  yells  of  maddened 
thousands  of  gambling  men  and  women,  howling,  li  Tenny 
wins  !  " 

Ralph  Burnham — the  fool  of  his  years  and  ardent  dis 
position — stretched  his  arms  vainly  in  the  darkness  of  his 
silent  room,  and  murmured,  as  his  tired  eyelids  fell  again  : 
"  She  loves  me  so  !  She  loves  me  !  "  For,  while  the 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  6^ 

knave  and  his  dupe  drank  the  wine  of  Roederer,  Burn- 
ham — a  simpler  dupe,  a  madder  fool — hung  over  Marie 
Ashton's  form  as  she  glanced  up  at  him  from  her  piano, 
her  voice  thrilling  his  heart's  core  ;  or  sat,  in  slavish 
worship,  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  provoking  and  voluptu 
ous  beauty  of  the  woman  who  piquantly  presided  over 
the  dainty  repast  he  shared  with  her.  His  life  was 
now  moulded  by  her  daily  caprice. 

Stars  of  the  summer  night  silently  swung  up  to  the 
zenith,  and  peeped  in  through  the  curtained  casement  in 
whose  recess  Marie,  with  clinging  arms,  drew  him  down 
to  her  throbbing  bosom,  whispering  :  "  And  you  will  al 
ways  love  me  ?  "  Home  from  the  siren's  haunt,  Ralph, 
his  pulses  bounding,  his  soul  on  fire,  walked  in  the  still, 
hushed  hours,  whispering  softly  to  blue  vault  and  sighing 
tree,  as  he  passed  the  deserted  Park  :  "  She  is  mine — - 
mine  for  ever  !  By  the  right  of  the  love  I  bear  her — by 
the  power  of  the  oath  sealed  on  her  clinging  lips  !  " 

Three  fools  of  fortune — three  men  groping  in  the 
dark  !  Other  fools  dreamed  in  New  York  that  night  still 
wilder  dreams. 

By  early  dawn,  two  days  later,  Abel  Cram  stole  out  of 
New  York,  and  gained  the  track  by  the  earliest  train.  A 
rendezvous  with  Overtoil  at  ten  o'clock,  in  a  wayside 
hostelry  where  one  of  Riley's  friends  kept  a  lair,  brought 
him  again  to  his  Mentor.  Cram's  face  was  calm.  His 
hand  trembled  slightly  as  he  fingered  a  well-lined  pocket- 
book,  in  his  inner  vest. 

Overton's  cheery  greeting  dispelled  all  forebodings. 
"  You  are  fixed  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  All  OK ! "  Cram  proudly  answered.  For,  while 
studying  how  to  arrange  his  "  sickness  "  the  day  before, 
in  the  routine  mail  he  handled,  an  express  package  of  two 
thousand  dollars  was  handed  him — with  a  request  to 
antedate  the  payment  of  some  notes  of  a  Western 
house,  falling  due  in  two  weeks.  Mechanically  sign- 
5 


66  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

ing  the  receipt,  Abel  had  a  revelation  of  his  own  pecu 
liar  genius. 

"  I'll  get  the  notes  quietly,  tag  them  for  collection,  and 
when  I  double  my  money,  enter  this  up  and  replace  my 
shortage.  I'll  then  have  my  other  winnings  to  the  good. 
If  I  can  get  even  two  for  one  odds,  I  am  all  right."  His 
eyes  sparkled.  No  one  had  seen  him  take  the  package. 
"  This  is  a  windfall,"  softly  chuckled  Abel ! 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  he  was  ready  to  defy  fortune, 
and  grasp  the  almost  certain  winnings  !  In  a  back  room, 
screened  from  view  of  chance  visitors  to  the  races,  Over- 
ton  and  Cram  passed  a  merry  morning.  Dozens  of  over 
dressed,  loud-voiced,  raffish  delegates  from  New  York 
thronged  the  front  rooms.  As  the  day  wore  on,  over  a 
cheery  luncheon,  Overtoil  and  Cram  became  even  firmer 
friends.  From  time  to  time,  several  of  the  most  respect 
able  guests  wandered  in  and  greeted  Overtoil,  who  dis 
creetly  presented  Cram  as  "  Mr.  Parker  of  Pittsburg." 
Abel's  last  fears  vanished  as  he  saw  Overtoil  covering 
bet  after  bet  on  Tenny.  Odds  10  to  7 — 2  for  i,  and  flake 
after  flake  of  neat  bills,  quickly  covered,  were  deposited 
in  the  capacious  safe  of  the  wayside  Sheepshead  Bay 
Hotel,  neatly  pinned  and  tagged. 

It  was  beyond  the  ken  of  Mr.  Abel  Cram  to  divine  that 
this  money  was  furnished  by  the  enterprising  Riley. 

As  Abel  sipped  his  fiery  cocktail,  he  whispered  softly 
to  Overtoil  :  "  I  may  get  all  my  bets  here.  I  don't  want 
to  show  up  strong  on  the  track.  What  luck  !  " 

After  a  whispered  colloquy  with  the  proprietor,  "  Mr. 
Parker  of  Pittsburg "  succeeded  in  depositing  all  his 
stolen  funds  in  company  with  double  the  amount  by  the 
side  of  the  traitor  Overton's  ventured  fortune,  which  was 
really  bet  on  Salvator. 

Even  the  long  wait  of  the  racing  day  ends.  With  a 
pale  and  set  face,  Abel  wended  to  the  track  with  Over- 
ton.  The  stir  and  movement  proclaimed  the  bringing 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  67 

out  of  the  champions.  Thirty  thousand  people,  in  wild 
abandonment,  hailed  the  appearance  of  the  mighty  Sal- 
vator— giant  King  of  the  Turf,  and  the  redoubtable 
hooded  Tenny— the  darling  of  the  desperate  bettor. 
Countless  bloodshot  eyes,  sleepless  from  the  night's  de 
bauch  or  mad  anxieties,  followed  these  champions. 
Lovely  women,  with  haggard  and  drawn  faces,  crowded 
each  other,  standing  on  the  benches  and  screaming  with 
intense  excitement. 

Pushed,  jostled  to  and  fro,  fighting  against  the  inflow 
ing  current,  Overton  and  Cram  essayed  to  keep  their  feet. 
In  the  last  waiting  moments,  Overton  quietly  handed  his 
huge  flask  to  Abel.  Cram's  hand  was  shaking  like  a  leaf 
in  the  storm.  As  he  returned  the  bottle,  a  mighty  roar 
proclaimed,  "They're  off !  "  Then  the  fiends  of  pande 
monium  were  let  loose.  Overton,  stop-watch  in  hand, 
was  glaring  on  those  two  specks,  whirling  around  the 
course.  Cram's  brain  reeled  under  the  blow  of  the  fiery 
drink.  His  heart  was  in  his  throat — his  wolfish  eyes 
glaring  on  the  stony  face  of  Overton.  A  louder  yell 
smote  the  air.  Men  and  women  went  mad.  Would  it 
never  end  ?  "  Tenny  !  Tenny  !  "  was  the  roar.  "  Tenny 
wins  !  "  Answering  roars,  "  Salvator  !  Salvator  !  "  froze 
his  heart,  and  when  the  great  California  giant  flashed  by, 
amid  a  wild  storm  of  frantic  huzzas,  "  Salvator  !  " — Abel 
Cram  turned  his  wolfish  eyes  on  Overton,  who  stood  with 
dropping  jaw,  and  cried  :  "  By  God  !  I  am  ruined  !  " — 
falling  prone  at  Overton's  feet. 

When  Abel  Cram  reopened  his  eyes,  it  was  in  a  stuffy 
back  room  of  the  little  wayside  hotel.  The  fumes  of 
the  drugged  liquor  still  turned  his  brain.  Overton  was 
seated  by  the  window,  his  head  resting  on  his  hands,  and 
appeared  as  a  monument  of  grief. 

"  Tell  me,"  Cram  hoarsely  whispered,  "  it's  not  true. 
Tenny  won  !  " 

Overton  calmly  forced  an  iced  lemonade  on  the  de- 


68  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

spairing  wretch.  '"  Salvator,  by  a  clear  two  lengths,  and 
I'm  out  ten  thousand  dollars  !  " 

Abel  groaned,  and  turned  his  swollen  face  to  the  wall. 
Fear  and  his  broken  nerves  kept  him  silent.  Overtoil 
moodily  strode  out  of  the  room.  "  State's  prison  !  "  Cram 
blubbered  as  he  writhed  in  agony.  In  half  an  hour,  Cram 
was  half  led,  half  dragged  to  a  coupe.  Before  leaving  the 
den,  Abel,  in  utter  misery,  noted  the  swinging  open 
doors  of  the  empty  safe. 

With  pride,  the  proprietor  saluted  a  crowd  of  noisy 
winners,  struggling  to  reach  that  Mecca  of  their  thirsty 
souls — the  bar.  "  Gents  !  I  paid  eighty  thousand  dollars, 
in  stake  bets,  out  of  that  safe  to-day." 

As  Overtoil  forced  a  reviver  on  Cram,  he  coldly  said  : 
"  By  the  way,  I'll  trouble  you  for  that  hundred,  Cram  ! 
I'm  clean  broke,  and  will  have  to  draw  on  Denver  to  get 
out  there  !  " 

In  anguish,  Cram  handed  over  the  hundred-dollar 
loan.  His  glances  met  Overton's  steady  eye,  which  never 
quailed.  All  the  way  back  to  their  parting-place,  Over- 
ton's  arm  pressed  lovingly  a  wallet  of  winnings  on  Sal 
vator,  hidden  in  his  garb.  His  face  was  yet  rueful,  and 
only  lightened  as  Abel  stole  off,  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 
to  his  room.  Then  he  joyously  smiled  at  himself  over 
his  glass  at  the  pool-room  bar.  "  I've  got  him  now  ! 
He's  robbed  the  bank  !  " 

When  a  peaceful  morning  dawned  on  the  Babel  of  New 
York  again,  Abel  Cram,  sick  at  heart,  crawled  to  his  desk. 
His  ghastly  face  alarmed  his  fellows.  One  ray  of  hope 
glittered  yet.  Overtoil  in  parting  told  him  to  call  at  the 
pool-room,  as  usual,  for  a  letter.  "  I  must  be  off,  but  I'll 
try  and  tide  you  over  a  little.  I've  got  to  get  out  and 
sell  some  properties  myself  to  get  square." 

Fear  made  Cram's  teeth  chatter.  Four  thousand  dol 
lars  short  now.  Mere  cowardice  set  his  busy  brain 
patching  up  schemes  to  roll  this  shortage  ahead  of  him. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  69 

Radiant  in  all  the  pride  of  a  happy  lover,  Burnham 
beamed  in  on  his  subordinates  at  an  unwonted  early 
hour.  For  he  was  bidden  to  drive  the  peerless  Marie  to 
Claremont,  for  an  afternoon  dinner. 

His  eyes  rilled  with  a  strange  joy  as  he  thought  of  the 
drive  home  under  the  starlight — her  wonderful  eyes  shin 
ing  on*him  in  tender  passion. 

As  Morton  departed  for  luncheon,  he  genially  laid  his 
hand  on  Burnham's  shoulder,  passing  through  Ralph's 
room. 

"  By  the  way,  old  boy  !  will  you  stay  down  all  after 
noon  ?  I've  got  some  Western  men  to  show  around  a 
little  to-day.  Some  of  our  best  customers  out  there  at 
Denver." 

*-  I'm  a  little  ashamed  to  tell  you,  Harry — I  have  a  par 
ticular  engagement  for  two  o'clock."  Burnham  replied, 
his  conscience  smiting  him.  "  I  am  really  sorry." 

"  Don't  mind  it,  Ralph,"  cried  the  good-natured 
Morton.  "  I'll  fix  it."  And  he  called  up  his  reserves. 

Morton  passed  out,  chasing  away  a  shade  of  tempo 
rary  annoyance.  After  all,  the  cashier  was  able  to  handle 
everything.  Making  a  few  brief  notes,  the  senior  part 
ner  gave  the  cashier  his  directions,  and  hastened  to  play 
the  part  of  "  bear  leader." 

Ralph  Burnham's  conscience  did  not  estop  him  from 
gayly  humming  his  pet  opera  air,  as  he  gathered  up  his 
clean-limbed  flyers  in  the  afternoon,  and  trotted  briskly 
to  the 'longed-for  haven  of  Central  Park  West.  It  was 
a  perfect  day.  Queen  Marie  sat  by  his  side,  in  still  more 
seductive  loveliness,  for  the  bright  color  flamed  even 
higher  on  her  cheeks  than  when  he  caught  her  to  his 
bosom  in  one  mad  crushing  embrace  on  meeting  in  her 
salon.  It  was  the  pride  of  possession  of  an  abject  slave. 

Far  up  the  river,  with  its  white  sails  dreaming  on  the 
placid  tide,  and  birds  carolling  above,  the  wandering 
breezes  blowing  Marie's  truant  tresses  across  his  face,  they 


70  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

journeyed  into  fairyland.  A  day  of  days  !  A  day  of 
enchantment!  A  wilder  spell  was  cast  over  "him.  A 
more  insidious  fever  burned  in  his  veins.  When  the 
return  brought  them  to  the  pavilion  at  Claremont,  where 
a  dainty  dinner  awaited  them,  Ralph  was  in  the  heaven 
on  earth  which  encompasses  only  that  king  of  men,  the 
favored  lover.  » 

Merrily  the  hours  flew  by.  On  his  shoulder  her  head 
rested,  as,  with  dreamy  eyes,  Marie  whispered  :  "  You 
have  given  me  the  happiest  day  of  my  life.  Claim  your 
reward  !  " 

Burnham's  burning  eyes  answered  in  a  mute  prayer, 
his  lips  trembling. 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  she  softly  said. 

As  Ralph  left  his  goddess  in  the  reception-room,  to  go 
and  claim  his  horses,  he  suddenly  stood  face  to  face  with 
Morton,  whose  party  of  convives  were  dutifully  following 
their  host  of  the  day.  A  wondering  light  was  in  Harry 
Morton's  eyes.  The  lovely  unknown  !  A  thought  of 
Claire  Morton  flashed  across  Ralph's  mind.  Gravely 
turning,  he  said  :  "  Permit  me,  madam,  to  present  my 
partner,  Mr.  Harry  Morton — Mrs.  Marie  Ashton,"  he 
concluded,  gazing  frankly  on  Harry's  face,  bespeaking  an 
admiration  controlled  by  his  metropolitan  breeding. 
"  Mrs.  Ashton  is  under  the  charge  of  our  customer,  Mr. 
Overton  of  Denver." 

"  Delighted,  I  am  sure,"  cordially  said  Harry  Morton, 
with  his  best  bow — low  enough  for  a  queen.  Neither 
partner  caught  the  lightning  flash  of  Marie's  eyes  when 
Overton's  name  was  mentioned.  Her  hand  closed  on 
her  fan  tightly.  Morton  bowed  and  retired. 

"  Beautiful  !  Beautiful  !  "  he  soliloquized,  as  he  led 
away  his  buoyant  Western  captives  to  a  dinner  a  la 
fin  and  ere. 

Swinging  down  the  road  steadily,  Ralph  counted  every 
moment  till,  in  the  silence  of  her  dim  boudoir,  Marie 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  71 

Ashton's  velvet  voice  should  whisper  once  more :  "  I 
love  you— only  you  !  " 

As  the  spirited  team  dashed  away  from  Claremont, 
Morton  followed  it  with  his  eyes. 

One  of  the  magnates  of  the  party  pleasantly  said  : 
"  You  know  Mrs.  Ashton,  Mr.  Morton  ? " 

"  I  have  just  been  presented  to  her,"  Morton  replied, 
with  a  note  of  interrogation  in  his  voice. 

The  visitor  answered,  with  flattered  local  pride  : 
"  Belle  of  Denver,  sir  !  Lovely  woman  !  Sorry  I  did 
not  catch  her  eye  to  speak  to  her.  Tom  Overton  has 
her  affairs  in  charge.  Friend  of  her  husband  !  Great 
man,  Overton — has  handled  the  heaviest  mining  deals 
out  West — somewhere  here  now  !  " 

"  Ah  !  yes,"  rejoined  Morton.  "  He  does  business 
with  us." 

"  Very  knowing  man,  Tom  !  "  concluded  the  guest,  as 
he  seated  himself  at  the  splendid  table,  with  its  outworks 
of  Little  Necks,  flanked  by  wildernesses  of  crystal  glasses. 

Throughout  the  dinner,  Morton  absently  recalled  those 
wonderful  eyes,  that  swelling  form,  which  the  silken 
armor  of  fashion  vainly  essayed  to  hide.  Her  flute-like 
voice  lingered  in  his  ears. 

"  Belle  of  Denver !  I  am  not  astonished,"  Morton 
mused.  "  A  walking  Venus  !  " 

As  the  party  broke  up,  in  the  pleased  hilarity  of  a 
bachelor  dinner,  Morton  was  not  displeased  to  see  Tom 
Overton  enter.  The  new-comer  was  welcomed  with 
Western  frankness  by  several  of  Morton's  guests.  In 
five  minutes  it  was  agreed  that  the  captured  Overton 
should  return,  and  make  one  of  a  club  party  for  the 
day's  culminating  glory — a  little  game  of  poker,  and  the 
usual  nightcaps.  Business  men,  East  and  West,  relax  a 
little  now  and  then  ! 

Four  hours  later,  with  a  smiling  face  and  a  very  happ^ 
heart,  Thomas  Overton  waved  his  "  good-night,"  at  the 


72  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Hoffman  bar,  to  the  departing  delegation.  Morton 
warmly  shook  hands  as  he  hailed  a  coupe. 

The  little  seance  of  classic  poker  had  netted  Overtoil  a 
good  eleven  hundred  dollars  in  bills,  and  a  check  for  two 
thousand  more.  Straight-away,  gentlemanly  poker- 
no  noise !  and  classic  style — was  Mr.  Overton's  most 
unfailing  resource,  when  he  could  find  men  who  would 
"back  their  convictions."  Without  eagerness,  he  gath 
ered  in  his  winnings,  and  laughingly  said  :  "  I'll  give 
you  all  your  revenge.  I  have  to  go  to  Denver  for  a 
couple  of  months  or  more.  I'll  see  you  men  there.  I 
should  have  been  there  now.  I  have  been  delayed." 
He  gained  the  Elevated,  and  rattled  down  to  Riley's. 

"  Not  a  bad  turn  !  "  Thomas  said  to  his  own  smiling 
face  in  the  glass,  as  he  disrobed  in  his  modest  lair.  "  I'm 
nearly  five  thousand  ahead.  I'll  give  Kate  back  her 
diamonds,  and  a  five  hundred  check  for  pin-money.  I've 
got  Morton  solid  now,  too  !  " 

"  So,  she  met  Morton,"  Tom  ruminated,  as  he  dashed 
off  a  glass  of  the  old  Cognac,  which  he  never  drank  while 
playing.  "  I  must  cut  that  other  young  devil's  comb.  I 
must  throw  her  now  across  Morton's  path.  I'll  get  her 
away  from  that  downy  nest  !  To-morrow,  I'll  see  that 
devil  Jacobs,  and  go  up  and  see  Kate — ah  !  I  beg  par 
don — Mrs.  Ashton,"  he  chuckled,  as  he  dropped  into  the 
dreamless  sleep  of  virtue. 

As  Overton  briskly  walked  across  the  Park,  next  morn 
ing,  to  Jacobs'  pawn-shop,  he  conned  over  his  field  of 
battle. 

"  I'll  get  up  there  early.  I  won't  then  run  against 
that  lovesick  fool.  I  have  Brother  Cram  in  my  power. 
I'll  send  him  a  note  and  flatter  him  with  future  help.  If 
I  can  get  Kate  to  act  with  sense — I'll  make  a  vacancy  in 
that  vault  before  three  months.  I'll  then  try  Europe  and 
Monaco." 

These  rosy  dreams  filled  Overton's  busy  brain.     All 


DELILAH    OF     HARLEM.  73 

nature  smiled  on  him.  Even  the  birds  chirped  a  wel 
come. 

After  regaining  Marie  Ashton's  necklace  from  the 
remorseless  jaws  of  Pawnbroker  Jacobs'  safe,  Tom,  in 
studious  reverie,  made  his  way  to  the  luxurious  nest 
where  Marie  Ashton  still  dreamed  of  the  trembling  leaves 
and  starlit  paths  of  her  night  ride. 

"  Fanny,"  sternly  said  Overton,  grasping  the  colored 
maid  by  the  arm,  "  I  want  to  see  your  mistress  at  once. 
No  nonsense,  now  !  "  muttered  Tom,  as  he  saw  the  dis 
tended  white  eyeballs  of  the  frightened  maid.  "  Wake 
her  up,  and  give  her  some  coffee.  I'll  wait  in  the  par 
lor." 

Nonchalantly  seating  himself  on  a  divan,  Overton  en 
joyed  one  of  the  club  cigars. 

In  five  minutes,  Marie  Ashton,  her  face  pale  and  drawn, 
her  lips  bloodless,  glided  into  the  room.  Clad  in  a  rich 
gown  of  clinging  white,  she  made  Overton  start — her 
appearance  was  so  wraith-like.  "  Tantrums  !  "  mentally 
noted  the  gambler. 

"  Kate,  listen  to  me,"  Overton  gravely  began,  tossing 
her  diamond  necklace  in  her  lap.  Beside  it  lay  five 
one-hundred-dollar  bills.  "  You  must  leave  here  to-day." 

Marie  Ashton  staggered  to  a  chair.  "  Leave  here  !  " 
she  murmured. 

"  Yes,"  resolutely  answered  Overton.  "  I'll  find  you  a 
safe  place  farther  out  up  in  Harlem." 

"  Why  ? "  the  woman  queried,  her  head  buried  in  her 
hands.  There  was  cold  defiance  in  her  tones. 

"  Because,"  Overton  retorted,  "  there  is  a  nest  of  Den 
ver  men  on  here.  They  know  too  much  about  me,  and 
they  might  find  out  too  much  about  your  checkered  past — 
my  lady." 

"  Why  do  you  wish  this?  "  Marie  slowly  questioned. 

"  Morton,  the  senior  partner,  has  got  them  in  tow.  I 
don't  want  that  fool  Burnham  to  spoil  my  game  now. 


74  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Morton  has  the  big  money  of  the  firm.  I'm  not  going 
to  harm  your  young  lady-killer,  but  money  I  am  going  to 
get.  And  you  must  help  me  !  " 

Marie  Ashton  shuddered.  "  Another  desperate 
scheme  !  •  One  more  crime  !  " 

"  Bah  !  you  talk  like  a  girl.  I'll  see  you  safe  in 
Europe.  You  shall  be  held  harmless.  I  will  set  you  up 
like  a  lady." 

She  mocked  him  with  bitter  words  :   "  Like  a  lady  !  " 

In  half  an  hour  there  was  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  on 
Tom's  face.  Beaten  down,  cornered  at  every  turn, 
cajoled,  threatened,  flattered,  and  deluded,  Marie  Ashton 
finally  yielded. 

"  For  the  last  time,  Tom.  This  is  for  liberty  !  I  fight 
now  for  life  !  I  will  do  as  you  wish. " 

In  six  hours  the  early  afternoon  sunlight  streamed  in  on 
only  the  empty  rooms,  where  Marie  Ashton  had  queened 
it.  Luggage  vans  hastening  in  one  direction — a  coupe 
with  the  maid  and  her  jewel-boxes  in  another — and  a  by- 
route  through  the  Park  for  Overton's  victoria,  effectively 
threw  off  any  pursuit  or  idle  curiosity. 

With  the  migratory  habits  of  years,  Marie  Ashton  was 
soon  installed  in  spacious  and  remote  apartments  on 
One  Hundred  and  Thirty-fifth  Street.  Overtoil  genially 
shared  a  cosey  little  dinner  a  deux.  Money  will  do  won 
ders,  even  in  Harlem  ! 

Seated  by  her  side,  unfolding  bit  by  bit  of  his  plan, 
the  gambler  led  his  dupe  along  the  pathway  of  the 
future. 

"  I  swear  to  you  I  don't  want  to  hurt  him.  He's 
got  plenty  of  money.  The  other  fellow  is  safe  in  it 
all." 

Marie  wearily  nodded  her  head.  "  Leave  me  now  !  I 
am  tired." 

"  I  will.  But  remember,  Marie,  no  nonsense  !  I  shall 
know  your  every  movement.  You've  got  to  drop  Burn- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  75 

ham  here  and  totally,  till  I  am  safe  in  Europe.  Then  I'll 
let  you  go." 

While  Overton  talked,  Ralph  Burnham  was  standing 
astounded  at  the  doors  of  the  deserted  apartment. 

"  Gone  ! "  he  brokenly  said.     His  eyes  were  wild. 

"  Yes,  sir.  The  lady  took  the  noon  train,  I  think 
West.  Left  no  address,  sir/'  cackled  the  servant,  pocket 
ing  a  bill.  "  Baggage  all  prepared  for  travel  !  Maid 
went  in  coupe  with  the  hand  parcels.  The  lady  went  out 
alone,  sir." 

Poor  Ralph  could  not  divine  that  Overton  picked  Marie 
up  in  the  Park  with  his  victoria. 

Far  up  the  road,  Burnham  frantically  speeded  his 
horses.  His  mood  was  devilish  in  its  mad  intensity. 
"  She  will  surely  write  !  "  His  heart  sank  within  his 
breast.  Gone  !  Where  ?  Why  ?  "  Overtoil's  work ! 
No.  He  is  away  at  Denver."  His  brain  reeled. 

Burnham's  heart  burned  in  vain  within  his  bosom. 
"  I'll  see  Mrs.  Francis.  Surely  Marie  will  write  !  "  But 
the  hours  rolled  on  into  days,  and  Marie  Ashton  did  not 
write. 


CHAPTER   V. 

BIRDS    OF    A    FEATHER.      MEPHISTO    AND    FAUST.     THE 
SENIOR  PARTNER'S  YACHT. 

THOMAS  OVERTON  remained  in  seclusion  for  a  score 
of  days  after  the  hegira  of  Marie  Ashton.  His  busy 
brain  was  occupied  with  schemes  sacred  to  his  own  com- 
munings. 

The  unbroken  solitude  of  Riley's  Hotel  gave  him  a 
vantage  point  whence  to  watch  (by  daily  report)  the 
growing  wolfishness  of  Abel  Cram.  Day  by  day  the 
thieving  clerk,  weary  of  eye,  fingered  the  ticker  tape, 
and  furtively  asked  for  letters  from  Denver  at  the  bar. 


76  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"I'll  hold  him  well  down,"  Mr.  Overton  confided  to 
himself.  "  He  must  be  eager  and  starved  out." 

Thomas  smiled  grimly  when  he  noted,  in  the  "  New 
York  Herald "  personals,  several  heart-rending  appeals 
from  the  man  who  had  lost  his  Venus.  "  Not  so  bad,  this 
one,"  chuckled  Overton. 

It  read  as  follows  : 

MARIE  A. — For  God's  sake  !  write — if  only  one  word.  Yours  to 
eternity.— R.  B. 

Overton's  secret  visits  to  the  lovely  Witch  of  Harlem 
proved  that  Ralph  had  totally  lost  the  trail  of  his  goddess. 
A  couple  of  Riley's  sharpest  boys  watched  the  divinity's 
nest  by  day  and  night.  No  invader  violated  its  decorous 
quiet.  Veiled  discreetly,  Marie  drove  out  with  Overton 
at  night  and  eluded  local  curiosity. 

"I  think  I'll  return  from  Denver,"  genially  planned 
Overton.  "  Morton's  curiosity  must  be  now  aroused.  I 
think  I  had  better  get  hold  of  Cram,  and  see  how  the 
land  lies." 

On  the  next  evening,  Overton  calmly  saluted  Abel  as 
he  stole  into  the  pool-room.  The  clerk's  lank  figure  was 
even  thinner  ;  his  restless  sunken  eyes  flickered  in  their 
sockets. 

Installed  in  a  private  room,  Overton  soon  sounded  the 
depths  of  Abel's  mental  treasury. 

"  All's  much  the  same  at  the  bank,  sir.  I  have  not 
been  very  well.  You  understand  !  " 

Thomas  expressed  deep  concern.  "  Hit  pretty  hard 

on  that  d d  race !  Well  !  we  must  see  what  we  can 

do.  I  will  never  forget  it.  How  are  all  the  partners  ?  " 
Tom  carelessly  questioned. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Cram,  "  wonders  never  cease.  Mr. 
Burnham  has  been  early  and  late  at  the  bank,  and  he's 
got  a  whole  lot  of  people  coming  and  going.  Looks  like 
a  detective  gang." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  77 

"  Nothing  wrong  with  the  bank,  I  hope,"  cried  Overton. 
"  See  here,  Cram  !  my  open  and  special  deposits  are  con 
siderable  there  now.  Too  much  to  lose  !  " 

"  Bless  you  !  no,  sir,"  quickly  responded  the  shivering 
scoundrel. 

"  Great  God  !  "  thought  Cram.  "  If  they  should  ex 
pert  my  accounts  now  !  "  He  quickly  answered  :  "  Why, 
the  vaults  are  simply  stuffed  with  money  !  " 

"  Ah  !  Well,  that's  good,"  the  gambler  slowly  an 
swered. 

Overton  did  not  know  that  Ralph  Burnham's  many 
feverish  inquiries  of  Mrs.  Selina  Francis  had  only  elicited 
the  fact  of  her  receipt  of  a  simple  visiting  card  from 
Marie  Ashton,  with  the  cabalistic  marks  of  social  depart 
ure,  "  P.  P.  C."  Only  this,  and  nothing  more  ! 

"  Mrs.  Ashton  was  always  very  reticent  as  to  her  own 
affairs.  I  regret,  my  dear  Mr.  Burnham,  I  cannot  inform 
you  further.  I  trust  we  shall  see  you  again." 

"  Oh,  most  certainly,  madam  !  "  ruefully  exclaimed 
Burnham,  seizing  hat,  stick,  and  gloves,  and  casting 
wistful  glances  at  the  well-remembered  corner  where 
sweet  Marie  Ashton  communed  alone  with  the  stars. 

As  Burnham's  steps  died  away  on  the  stair,  Mrs.  Selina 
Francis  sighed  heavily.  "  Caught  by  a  mere  bodily 
fancy  !  Poor  fellow  !  He  cannot  appreciate  true  soul 
and  mind.  He  is  like  all  the  rest — a  mere  earthworm  !  " 
So  he  was. 

Selina  Francis,  smarting  under  the  continued  blindness 
of  many  unthinking  men  to  the  splendors  of  the  lofty 
soul  encased  temporarily  in  her  angular  bony  framework, 
infused  an  added  gall  in  the  preparation  of  her  current 
essay,  "  On  the  Mentally  Befogged  Condition  of  Woman's 
Tyrant,  Man— the  Brute  of  the  Nineteenth  Century." 

Ralph,  fleeing  away  bankward,  swore  between  his 
clinched  teeth,  "  I'll  spend  a  year's  income  to  trace  Marie." 
Betaking  himself  to  "  private  agencies,"  he  spent  the  weary 


78  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

days  of  Overton's  absence  in  vain  query.  With  shrinking 
jealousy,  he  refrained  from  mentioning  Marie  Ashton's 
hegira  to  Harry  Morton,  who  was,  as  usual,  buried  in  his 
daily  routine. 

Moody-eyed  and  gloomy,  Burnham  visited  Claire 
Morton  often.  Anything  to  chase  away  the  memory  of 
the  lost  one.  How  colorless  seemed  placid  Claire,  in  her 
tranquil  beauty,  to  the  haunting  vision  of  the  vanished 
woman  whose  very  touch  made  his  pulses  bound  and 
whose  crimson  lips  had  burned  yet  unforgotten  kisses  on 
his  fevered  brow  ! 

Day  after  day  passing  in  this  suspense,  a  dull  hatred 
of  Tom  Overton  filled  Burnham's  heart.  "  Is  this  his 
work?  "  Ralph  groaned.  "  I'll  have  his  life." 

Nervously  approaching  Abel  Cram,  he  brusquely  said, 
one  morning :  "  Let  me  see  Mr.  Overton's  account, 
Cram." 

Abel  extended  the  bulky  ledger.  "  Ah  !  quite  heavy 
deposits  and  checking  here,"  Ralph  remarked  in  surprise. 
"  What  was  Overton's  real  game — business  or  love  ?  "  he 
inwardly  queried. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Cram  mechanically  answered.  "  I  see  Mr. 
Overton  moves  a  very  active  stock  account.  His  de 
posits  come  in  from  several  good  business  houses  here  ; 
and  his  last  checks  are  drawn  from  Denver." 

"  Have  you  had  any  letters  from  him  there  ? "  Ralph 
continued. 

"  No,  sir,  we  only  forwarded  all  his  mail  as  directed." 

"  Very  good  !  "  cried  Burnham,  dropping  the  cover  of 
the  book.  Cram  glided  away. 

Neither  of  the  dupes  recognized  the  fine  work  of  that 
able  deus  ex  machina,  Riley,  in  these  well-planned  dummy 
transactions. 

"  If  I  do  not  see  him  back  soon,  I'll  have  her  traced  in 
Denver,"  mused  Ralph,  biting  his  cigar  viciously.  And 
yet  his  heart  smote  him  at  the  thought  of  shadowing  her 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  79 

— the  Witch  of  Harlem,  his  Queen  of  Hearts — like  a 
fugitive. 

"  I'll  size  up  Mr.  Thomas  Overton,  if  he  ever  shows 
his  face  in  these  doors  again,"  the  ardent  lover  swore,  as 
he  walked  up  and  down  in  torment. 

Hurnham  did  not  delude  himself  with  the  idea  of 
handling  Overtoil's  confidences  very  easily.  "It's -the 
only  way  out  however  !  "  he  desperately  said. 

Though  the  details  of  Burnham's  love-quest  were  un 
known  to  Tom  Overtoil— as  he  toyed  with  Abel  Cram  in 
the  pool-room—yet  he  easily  divined  the  cause  of  Ralph's 
feverish  movements. 

A  stony  smile  spread  over  his  hard  face.  "  I  think  I'll 
checkmate  him  !  I'll  make  his  senior  partner  watch  him 
on  his  own  account,  and  fool  him."  Tom  grinned,  as  he 
concluded  :  "  Yes,  and  the  junior  can  console  his  old 
flame,  the  cousin,  while  Kate  hoodwinks  the  senior.  It 
will  be  a  go.  Cram  !  "  slowly  began  Overton,  "  meet  me 
here  to-morrow  night  in  the  private  room  above.  I  want 
my  presence  in  New  York  kept  a  secret.  You  can  do  me 
a  service.  I  am  handling  a  good  deal  of  money  now,  but 
I'll  try  and  stand  in,  to  help  you.  Don't  call  on  me  just 
yet — unless  you  get  in  a  regular  hole.  I'll  be  easier  soon. 
I  am  selling  off  some  of  my  Western  properties."  Over- 
ton  affected  the  Jay  Gould  as  he  spoke. 

Abel's  hungry  eyes  shone  with  gratitude.  "I  can  rely 
on  you  if  I  get  regularly  stuck  ?"  His  thin  voice  quiv 
ered  with  anxiety. 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  cheerfully  responded  Tom.  "  I  am  not 
going  to.  see  you  go  to  the  wall.  Now,  let's  have  a 
bottle  of  wine." 

Over  their  glasses,  Abel  murmured  :  "  \Vhat  do  you 
wish  me  to  do?"  His  timorous  soul  feared  the  future 
schemes  of  audacious  Overton.  That  racing  tip  was 
unforgotten. 

"Only  to  hand    Mr.   Morton — in   perfect  secrecy — a 


8o  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

letter  I  will  give  you  to-morrow.  I  want  to  confer  pri 
vately  with  him  on  a  very  intricate  and  secret  matter. 
Burnham  must  never  have  a  hint.  You  see  ?  "  Tom's 
eyes  were  deadly  as  a  snake's. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Overton,"  faltered  Abel,  "  you'll  not 
prejudice  Burnham.  He  is  a  man  we  all  worship  down 
here."  The  despairing  clerk  only  spoke  the  truth.  And 
yet  he  was  gliding  helplessly  into  Overton's  hands. 

Tom's  eyes  were  perfectly  frank,  as  he  shook  hands 
with  Abel,  and  straightforwardly  exclaimed  :  "  Honor 
bright — no.  It's  only  a  private  question  of  business 
prudence." 

"  I'm  your  man,  then,"  said  Abel,  perfectly  reassured. 

"  So  you  are,"  ruminated  Overton  ;  "and  Morton  will 
be  mine  too,  if  Kate  stands  up  to  her  work."  The  cards 
were  running  his  way. 

"  I  can  let  you  have  a  couple  of  hundred  now,  if  that 
will  help  you,"  the  wily  gambler  continued. 

"  Thanks  !  It  will  ease  me,"  Cram  gratefully  uttered, 
as  his  fingers  closed  on  the  crisp  bills,  which  Tom  care 
lessly  tossed  over  to  him.  • 

"  I  can  go  ahead  to-morrow,  and  make  a  turn  now," 
gleefully  thought  Abel,  as  he  sped  away. 

"  You  can  go  on  now  to  your  ruin,  my  bird  in  the 
trap  !  "  cheerfully  resolved  Overton,  as  he  buttoned  his 
coat  and  sought  the  safe  byways  in  the  dusk.  "  I  can 
crush  you,  after  this,  at  any  time." 

"  Well,  here's  for  Kate  !  "  he  decided,  as  he  hailed  a 
passing  coupe,  and  pulled  the  curtains  down  sharply  as 
he  arrived  at  the  little  "  rendezvous  of  rogues." 

Blooming  Marie  Ashton  received  Overton  with  cheer 
fulness.  Tom  watched  her  closely.  A  resolute  smile, 
playing  over  her  face,  told  that  experienced  judge  of 
woman  nature  that  in  her  lonely  hours  she  had  decided 
upon  her  parti. 

"  If  I  could  only  make  that  blonde   devil  talk,"  he 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  8l 

thought.  Overton  dismissed  this  futile  plan.  "  Women 
are  all  liars,"  he  muttered,  "  when  their  own  interests  are 
concerned.  At  least,  all  those  I've  met,"  he  apostro 
phized,  as  he  ran  over  a  rueful  experience. 

"  Let  us  now  understand  each  other,"  the  gambler 
began.  "  I'm  going  to  see  Morton  as  soon  as  I  can.  I 
shall  bring  him  here,  and  then  keep  shady  for  a  few  days. 
You  must  then  do  the  rest.  You  can  lead  him  on  just  as 
far  as  you  wish.  He's  got  a  wife  he's  very  tired  of.  Too 
good  for  him — so  I  hear." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  Marie's  lips  settled  in  a  sneer.  "  I 
am  not,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  Overtoil  coolly  replied,  as 
he  took  a  peep  to  verify  the  absence  of  the  sly  Fanny. 
Even  faithful  colored  maids  like  to  pick  up  a  secret  now 
and  then. 

"  If  you  wheedle  him  out  of  that  combination,  you  are 
then  free  to  preserve  your  personal  independence.  Yes 
— and  follow  your  latest  fancy,  too." 

Danger  signals  flashed  in  Marie's  eyes.  Overtoil  has 
tily  continued  : 

"  Now,  see  here  !  we  have  got  to  make  a  big  strike 
here.  You  are  safe.  I'll  keep  you  all  right.  He  carries 
a  copy  of  that  combination  somewhere  on  his  person.  I 
only  want  to  copy  it.  These  fools  trust  a  good  deal  to 
their  time-lock.  I  will  not  remove  a  thing  from  his  pock 
ets,  but  I  must  search  all  his  belongings.  That's  your 
work,  my  lady — to  help  me  here.  I  will  bring  him  round, 
on  the  quiet.  He  don't  dare  peach.  His  wife  will  pre 
vent  that.  The  old  man's  got  the  reserve  capital.  Wise 
never  will  suspect.  And  when  you  are  done  with  him, 
he  won't  dare  to  talk." 

"  When  is  all  this  elegant  work  to  begin  ?  "  Marie 
doubtfully  questioned. 

"  I'll  have  him  here  in  a  couple  of  days.  I  have  a  fairy 
story  ready  for  him.  You  can  watch  his  moods.  A  little 
6 


82  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

dinner  or  two,  here,  will  fix  him.  The  old  way  !  "  Over- 
ton  whispered.  "  I'll  work  this  whole  affair.  You  trust 
me,  and  in  a  month  you'll  be  on  the  high  seas  and  safe 
with  a  fortune." 

Overton  was  gone  after  a  few  more  general  directions. 
Marie  Ashton  sat  long  after  his  departure,  gazing  out  of 
the  darkened  casement. 

"I  will  have  my  own  way  yet  in  this  little  affair.  But 
Tom  must  not  suspect.  I'm  no  longer  the  fool  I  was." 
The  lovely  witch  sighed. 

Marie  Ashton's  dreams  retraced  years  of  intrigue  and 
adventure  before  the  morning  sunbeam's  showed  her 
charming  face  again  in  her  mirror. 

Thomas  Overton  indited  a  letter  to  Morton  with 
extreme  care  next  day,  knitting  his  dark  brows  over  many 
epistolary  obstacles.  Reviewing  his  work  over  a  Per- 
fecto,  the  gambler  chuckled  at  the  result.  "  This  will 
pique  his  curiosity,"  Tom  decided,  as  he  read  : 

(Confidential.)  NEW  YORK,  October  5,  1889. 

MR.  HARRY  MORTON, 

Morton,  Burn  ham  &  Co., 

Bankers  and  Brokers 

New  York  City. 

MY  DEAR  SIR  :  Will  you  kindly  grant  me  an  hour  to-morrow 
evening  at  the  Club— say  eight  o'clock.  I  wish  to  confer  with  you 
on  matters  of  great  moment  to  myself  and  to  one  I  am  deeply  inter 
ested  in.  A  legal  and  business  juncture  makes  your  advice  of  great 
value,  if  you  will  kindly  oblige  me.  For  business  reasons,  I  prefer 
to  keep  my  presence  in  New  York  a  secret  from  every  one  but  your 
self. 

Please  reply  in  sealed  envelope  to  my  address,  under  cover  to  Club 
steward. 

Yours, 

THOMAS  OVERTON. 

"  I  think  that  will  bring  him."  The  gambler  decided 
to  take  the  chances. 


DELILAH    OK    HARLEM.  83 

Abel  Cram,  duly  cautioned,  received  the  missive  from 
Overtoil  at  the  appointed  hour.  The  clerk  was  hilarious, 
for  a  reflex  wave  had  returned  him  a  few  of  his  lost  bank 
bills.  And  Overton's  promise  of  help  !  He  at  least  had 
breathing  time. 

Tom  Overtoil  spent  his  night,  till  the  glittering  hours 
of  dawn,  in  sorting  and  arranging  some  of  those  won- 
drously  attractive  papers,  grants,  and  deeds  which  crowd 
the  baggage  of  the  Western  adventurer.  Notes  of  his 
story  were  carefully  arranged. 

Mr.  Harry  Morton's  eyes  opened  wide  next  morning, 
when  his  confidential  clerk  handed  him  the  gambler's 
letter. 

"  Came  by  messenger  to  me.  For  your  own  eye  only, 
and  to  be  given  to  you  alone,"  was  the  clerk's  careful 
statement. 

"You  know  nothing  of  this  matter?"  Morton  said, 
with  a  serious  air,  as  he  perused  the  note. 

"  Not  a  thing,  sir,"  steadfastly  answered  Abel. 

"  You  may  go,  Cram,"  kindly  replied  the  busy  banker. 

When  alone,  he  burned  the  note  and  saw  its  ashes  dis 
appear  with  pleasure. 

"  Curse  this  business  !  "  muttered  Morton.  "  I  sup 
pose  I've  got  to  go.  I  would  not  want  Seth  Wise  to 
know  of  that  little  poker  party  at  the  Club.  The  old  boy 
is  wild  at  any  form  of  gambling — except  the  legitimate." 

Closing  his  office  desk,  Morton  stepped  out  and  sent  a 
laconic  answer  as  requested  : 

Will  come.— M. 

"  Just  as  well  to  keep  this  to  myself,"  he  sagely  decided, 
and  plunged  into  closing  up  his  daily  affairs. 

During  the  long  afternoon,  the  words  of  the  note  re 
turned  to  his  mind.  Who  was  the  other  party  in  interest  ? 
Was  it  the  bewitching  Lady  of  the  Night  ? 

At  eight  o'clock,  Harry   Morton   briskly  entered   the 


84  DELILAH  OF  HARLEM. 

Club.  The  watchful  steward  conducted  him  to  a  private 
room,  where  Tom  Overton,  disguising  his  impatience, 
received  him  with  serious  courtesy. 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  really  thankful,"  he  began,  without 
flurry. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  of  service  to  you,"  Morton  replied, 
with  the  professional  caution  of  the  New  York  banker. 
In  this  workaday  world,  people  usually  want,  little  of 
bankers,  save  money.  Morton  was  always  on  his  pecun 
iary  guard. 

When  the  usual  comforts,  dear  to  the  clubman,  were 
provided,  Overton,  producing  a  bundle  of  papers,  said  : 
"  May  I  now  trouble  you  ?" 

Morton  mentally  ejaculated,  as  he  chose  a  cigar :  "  I 
hope  he  won't  read  all  those  papers." 

That  horrible  fear  was  groundless.  Fixing  his  eye  on 
Morton,  Overton  gravely  remarked  :  "  You  have  met  my 
friend  Mrs.  Ashton  ?  " 

Morton  started.  He  had  not  forgotten  the  handsomest 
woman  his  eyes  had  rested  on  in  many  long  years.  For 
gotten  !  Never  ! 

**  Certainly,"  replied  Morton,  his  eyes  kindling. 

"  It  is  on  her  account  that  I  wish  to  consult  you,"  Tom 
continued,  his  eye  catching  every  varying  emotion  fleet 
ing  over  the  banker's  face. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  be  of  any  service,"  Morton  said, 
with  an  appearance  of  decided  interest,  not  lost  on 
Overton. 

"  I  will  be  brief— I  know  your  time  is  valuable.  Her 
late  husband,  William  Ashton,  was  my  partner  in  some 
heavy  operations  out  West.  We  held  some  valuable 
mining  properties  together.  His  estate  is  unsettled.  It 
is  under  my  control,  and  I  am  his  executor.  Poor  Ashton 
was  killed  by  Indians  two  years  ago  in  Southern  Colo 
rado." 

Overton  paused.     Morton  was  eagerly  following  him. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  85 

"  Mrs.  Ashton  married  very  young,  you  can  see,"  Tom 
resumed. 

Morton  smiled  and  bowed. 

"  Now,  I  will  be  frank,  Mr.  Morton.  Ashton  was  a 
peculiar  man.  He  did  not  wish  his  wife  to  be  the  prey 
of  every  fortune-hunter,  and,  in  fact,  he  resented  the 
general  admiration  she  inspired,  especially  in  the  South 
and  West.  He  left  a  singular  will,  giving  all  to  her, 
though  their  union  was  childless,  but  stipulating  that, 
should  she  marry  within  five  years,  she  should  forfeit  all 
to  some  distant  relatives  of  his,  in  the  South." 

"  Monstrous  foolishness  !  "  ejaculated  Morton. 

Overton  calmly  proceeded  :  "  I  tried  to  dissuade  him. 
'  Look  here,  Overton,'  said  he  ;  '  you'll  watch  over  her. 
These  properties  will  increase,  and,  after  five  years, 
should  anything  happen,  she  will  be  wiser  and  fitter  then 
to  choose  a  husband.  I  will  make  it  useless  for  any  mere 
adventurers  to  follow  her  up  at  once.'  " 

"  What's  your  trouble  now  ?  "  eagerly  questioned  Mor 
ton. 

"Two  annoyances  fret  me  now,"  Overton  answered,  with 
a  friendly  solicitude.  "  The  first  is  that  these  cut-off 
heirs  have  engaged  some  desperate  pettifogging  lawyers 
to  revoke  the  probate  of  the  will,  as  his  body  was  never 
found.  The  Indians  or  wolves  destroyed  it."  (Overton 
heaved  a  sigh.)  "  They  claim  that  he  is  not  dead.  They 
fight  the  proofs.  They  have  been  chasing  her  and  my 
self  to  serve  us  with  papers,  and  thus  bother  me.  As  the 
estate  is  undivided,  I  have  to  keep  very  quiet  on  my 
own  account,  I  am  just  back  from  a  flying  trip  to  Den 
ver,  and  I  must  go  there  again  in  a  couple  of  days.  I 
want  my  whereabouts  and  that  of  my  account — as  well  as 
my  helpless  ward's  location — kept  a  secret,  now,  from 
every  one." 

"You  may  trust  me  implicitly,  Mr.  Overton,"  Morton 
firmly  said. 


86  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

It  was  a  gallant  service.  The  Colorado  man  bowed 
his  thanks.  "  It  is  for  that  reason  I  communicated  to  you 
in  secret.  1  want  no  one — even  of  your  own  firm — to 
know,  at  present,  of  my  movements."  Morton  nodded 
assent. 

The  sharper  continued  :  "  Now,  Marie  Ashton  is  a 
mere  child  in  business.  She  is  ardent,  timid,  and  un 
suspicious.  1  have  no  one  to  furnish  her  any  needed 
advice,  or  direct  her  in  my  absence.  I  don't  care  to 
trust  strange  New  York  lawyers,  till  I  see  what  I  can  do 
out  West.  I  have  induced  her  to  live  here  very  quietly, 
as  these  distant  heirs  would  exaggerate  her  fortune  .and 
charms,  and  endeavor  to  set  glib  adventurers  on  her  track 
to  induce  her  by  some  foolish  marriage  to  forfeit  her  very 
handsome  property." 

"I  see,"  said  Morton,  thoughtfully. 

"  Further,  my  own  interests,  as  well  as  hers,  would 
suffer  by  a  forced  division  of  the  property  before  five 
years.  I  want  to  keep  control,  and  save  her  and  myself." 

"Very  properly,"  murmured  Morton. 

Lighting  a  fresh  cigar,  Overtoil  prepared  his  grand 
coup.  "  The  next  danger  is  from  your  friend  and  part 
ner,  Ralph  Burnham." 

Morton  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Ralph  !  "  he  cried.  "  I 
don't  see.  I  can't  understand,"  he  remarked  in  astonish 
ment. 

"Listen!"  softly  continued  Overton.  "I  told  you 
that  Marie  Ashton  was  of  an  ardent  nature.  She  has 
been  entirely  alone  for  two  years.  I  am  absent  a  great 
deal.  She  must  deny  herself  much  social  pleasure  on 
account  of  this  legal  tangle.  Pier  hands  are  tied  by  this 
foolish  will.  She  can't  help  me.  I  have  to  watch  over 
her.  I  can't  watch  while  I  am  away." 

"  But  Burnham  ?"  Morton  persisted. 

Overton  looked  seriously  at  Morton,  and  lowered  his 
voice  :  "  He  met  her  some  time  ago  at  a  Mrs.  Francis* 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  87 

house,  here.  Now,  Mr.  Morton,  Burnham  is  young, 
handsome,  and  impressionable.  I  found  out  that  he  has 
visited  my  ward  very  frequently  lately.  They  have 
been  riding,  and  a  very  warm  acquaintance  has  sprung 
up." 

Morton's  brow  was  gloomy.  "  How  can  I  interfere  in 
this  ?  "  he  sullenly  demanded. 

"  By  aiding  me  to  keep  them  apart  until  this  imprudent 
fancy  has  drifted  from  both  their  minds."  Overtoil's 
brow  was  overcast  as  he  said  this.  "  I  have  changed 
my  ward's  residence.  I  have  persuaded  her  that  she  has 
no  right  to  further  complicate  me  now.  Burnham  does 
not  know  where  she  is,  and  I  have  her  promise  not  to 
communicate  with  him  in  any  way  until  our  affairs  change. 
It  is  vital  he  should  not  meet  her,  or  trace  her  where 
abouts  through  me.  You  can  prevent  this.  Will  you 
aid  me  ?  "  Overtoil's  voice  was  innocently  trusting. 

"  How  ? "  he  asked.     Morton  was  quite  bewildered. 

"  I  will  leave  you  money  for  her  use.  I  will  take  you 
to  her,  and  I  shall  send  all  letters  and  despatches  for  her 
to  you  privately.  I  don't  want  her  traced  by  letters  or 
telegrams.  If  she  needs  anything,  you  can  assist  her  till 
my  return.  You  will  be  the  only  person  knowing  of  her 
whereabouts.  Should  it  be  discovered  in  my  absence,  I 
want  her  to  remove  to  an  absolutely  unknown  place." 

"  Is  this  exactly  fair  to  Burnham  ?  "  Morton  questioned 
flatly. 

"  It  is  fair  to  both  parties,  and  to  me.  He  should  not 
drop  into  a  sentimental  entanglement  with  a  woman  tied 
up  for  years  yet,  and  who  may  be  so  longer.  That  would 
be  unfair  to  all  parties,  and  to  my  property  interests." 

"  Where  can  I  see  her  ?"  Morton  asked,  his  last  scruples 
vanishing. 

"  Meet  me  here  to-morrow  night  at  this  hour.  We  will 
drive  out  there,"  answered  the  victorious  Overtoil.  "  But 
I  am  keeping  you  too  long  ! "  Tom's  tact  was  unfailing. 


88  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

In  ten  minutes,  Morton  was  slowly  threading  Madison 
Square.  "  A  strange  story  !  Well,  I  shall  see  her  to 
morrow  night.  She  is  a  royal  woman  !  " 

The  vision  of  the  beauty  of  Claremont  danced  before 
his  eyes,  and,  do  what  he  would,  he  could  not  chase  it 
away. 

Next  day,  Morton,  with  a  sudden  instinctive  rivalry, 
gazed  at  Ralph  Burnham,  and  wondered  if  the  Belle  of 
Denver  had  really  thrown  away  her  heart  on  this  easy 
going  young  financier.  The  leaven  of  unrest  was  work 
ing  in  his  bosom. 

When  evening  brought  the  stars  to  the  skies,  Morton, 
with  an  unaccustomed  hesitation  over  the  details  of  an 
ornate  toilet,  entered  the  presence  of  the  Witch  of  Harlem. 

Overton  was  content  to  see  the  web  woven  around 
Morton,  whose  ready  admiration  was  undisguised.  This 
fresh,  seductive  loveliness — the  lonely  situation  of  the 
new  divinity — the  air  of  suggestive  mystery  in  her  sur 
roundings,  all  piqued  and  interested  the  banker. 

A  little  supper,  over  which  the  beauty  of  the  West 
daintily  presided,  followed.  After  Overton's  plans  were 
discussed,  his  departure  of  the  morrow  arranged,  and 
addresses  given  for  the  safe  handling  of  the  correspond 
ence  expected,  Morton  found  himself  stammering  as  he 
said  :  "  I  shall  see  you  again  very  soon,  I  hope  !  " 

"  You  are  now  my  jailer,"  Marie  merrily  answered. 

Morton  fancied  the  pressure  of  her  hand  had  its  mean 
ing  as  he  bent  over  it. 

As  Overton  and  the  banker  rolled  along  in  the  coupe 
homeward,  they  gravely  settled  the  last  details.  Morton 
carefully  deposited  the  telegraphic  addresses  and  memo 
randa  in  his  huge  pocket-book,  suggestive  of  the  banker. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  have  that  combination  in  there,  my 
financial  genius,"  Overton  mused,  as  his  eyes  flashed 
greedily  in  the  dusky  carriage.  "  I'll  have  it  yet." 

And.  with  warm    salutations,    Overton    was    officially 


IVr.ULAH    OF    HARI.KM.  89 

"  off  for  Denver  ''  in  the  morning  train,  and  Harry  Mor 
ton  had  a  new  secret  from  his  wife  and  partner.  He 
dared  not  whisper  it  even  in  his  rosy  dreams.  Those 
flitting  visions  of  the  night  thrilled  him  when  he  heard 
the  velvety  voice  of  Marie  Ashton  softly  breathe  again  : 
'•  You- are  my  jailer  now." 

"  By  heavens  !  I  must  take  care  of  her,"  was  his  last 
thought.  <%  It's  a  matter  of  honor." 

As  day  followed  day,  the  rush  of  Wall  Street  made  the 
bank  a  hot  battle-ground  of  financial  strife,  daily  toil, 
and  wild  intrigues.  Ralph  Burnham,  distant  and  moody, 
plodded  along  his  life-path  listlessly.  No  sign  yet  of  the 
vanished  Venus !  Abel  Cram,  furtively  dabbling  in  the 
pool-room  whirl,  patched  his  altered  accounts  and  prayed 
for  Overton's  return.  Yet  this  traveller  tarried  at  Den 
ver.  For  day  after  day  brought  letters  and  news  to  Mor 
ton,  in  whose  eyes  a  fierce,  bright  light  of  newly  aroused 
passion  was  now  shining.  When  his  release  from  the 
splendid  rooms  of  his  Madison  Avenue  mansion  came 
nightly,  stealing  forth  to  by-street  and  dark  avenue,  Mor 
ton  sought  the-  Witch  of  Harlem.  By  her  side,  at  the 
piano,  he  lingered  under  the  spell  of  her  voice.  At  her 
feet,  he  poured  out  rhapsodies  with  a  lover's  ardor.  At 
the  dainty  table,  he  drank  in  a  deeper  intoxication  than 
the  velvet  Burgundy,  flashing  like  rubies  in  the  crystal. 

His  impulsive  soul  was  on  fire.  His  mind  became 
centred  upon  the  one  woman  who  thralled  his  passionate 
heart  in  silken  chains.  And,  so  far,  she  denied  him. 
Till  now,  she  gently  repulsed  him.  When  the  silver  note 
of  the  clock's  bell  told  of  the  appointed  hour,  she  sternly 
decreed  :  '•  I  will  dismiss  my  jailer  now." 

Blinded  from  day  to  day,  Morton  became  a  slave  of 
her  lamp — a  very  suppliant.  Stolen  rides  in  the  dark 
hours,  far  up  the  silvery  Hudson,  thrilled  his  pulses  with 
new  ardor. 

On   her  dainty   blue  veined    hands  sparkled   splendid 


gO  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

gems,  the  spoil  of  Morton's  secret  visits  in  search  of  new 
bawbles  for  the  Witch  of  Harlem. 

While  he  murmured  passionate  prayers — still  softly 
denied  by  the  fair  idol  of  his  heart — Claire  Morton,  his 
pale-faced  wife,  sat  lonely  in  her  home,  or  tried'to  chase 
the  shadows  from  Ralph  Burnham's  gloomy  brow. 

"I  don't  half  like  this,  Claire,"  Burnham  would  say. 
"  Morton  never  was  a  home-stayer,  but  he  is  now  a  per 
manent  absentee.  Where  does  he  spend  his  evenings  ?  " 

"  At  the  clubs,  at  the  theatres,  anywhere,  Ralph,"  she 
wearily  replied  ;  "  anywhere,  except  with  me/' 

"  I  must  speak  to  Morton,"  Ralph  would  growl.  And 
yet,  only  a  growing  distrust  marked  their  intercourse  so 
far.  "  I'm  no  saint  myself,"  Burnham  admitted.  "  I'll 
wait." 

Stern  old  Seth  Wise,  as  days  rolled  on  into  weeks, 
bluntly  assailed  Morton  for  neglecting  his  home.  High 
words  escaped — in  angry  echoes — from  the  private  room 
of  the  senior  partner,  as  old  Seth  daily  emerged,  red- 
faced  and  indignant. 

"  These  young  men  are  up  to  every  mad  devilment 
now.  By  Jove  !  Burnham  is  getting  to  be  a  good  deal 
the  steadier  of  the  two." 

It  was,  indeed,  the  truth.  Ralph,  coldly  resentful  of 
Morton's  altered  manner,  applied  himself  with  unwonted 
diligence  to  his  daily  affairs,  for  not  a  token  of  the  lost 
love  came — news  of  that  vanished  Venus  never  reached 
him. 

Morton,  in  a  lover's  dream,  moved  steadily  on  in  his 
chosen  path.  Letters  from  Overtoil  announced  his  con 
tinued  absence  under  unexpected  delays.  His  return 
was  indefinitely  postponed.  Joy  filled  Harry  Morton's 
heart.  His  soul  craved  now  an  ultimate,  total  and  final 
possession  of  the  woman  who  had  abjectly  enslaved  him. 

A  splendid  August  evening  was  promised,  as  Morton 
closed  his  desk  on  a  Saturday  afternoon. 


.  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  9 1 

"There'll  be  moonlight.  I'll  take  Marie  a  spin  up  the 
East  River  in  my  yacht." 

Hastily  penning  a  lying  letter  to  his  wife  about  a 
sudden  call  to  Philadelphia,  Morton  sent  another  mes 
senger — a  messenger  of  love — to  the  wily  woman  who 
waited  now  his  nightly  footstep  on  the  stair.  In  two 
hours  Morton's  hasty  orders  were  executed,  for  at  the 
Twenty-fourth  Street  anchorage  his  swift  steamer-yacht 
Fantine  tossed  her  saucy  prow  on  the  ripples  of  the  East 
River. 

Delicate  and  graceful  as  a  greyhound,  her  taper  masts, 
glistening,  shapely  hull  (with  its  single  golden  streak),  and 
sumptuous  cabins  marked  her  as  fit  for  a  queen's  royal 
pleasure. 

While  the  silvery  machinery  was  loosened,  and  faint 
blue  smoke-wreaths  told  of  the  readiness  of  all,  the 
nimble  stewards  hastened  preparation  for  a  repast  worthy 
of  Morton's  lavish  hospitality. 

"  I  have  just  time  to  run  up-town  and  get  that  diamond 
butterfly  I  was  looking  at,  for  Marie,"  murmured  the 
eager  married  lover,  gazing  at  his  watch.  Anything  was 
better  than  this  tedious  waiting. 

Evening  shadows  were  beginning  to  fall,  as  a  closed 
coupe  drove  up  to  the  landing.  Morton's  nervous  hand 
was  on  the  door.  His  heart  leaped  up.  Marie  Ashton 
looked  never  so  radiant.  Yet,  at  his  warning  whisper, 
the  double  folds  of  a  silver  veil  hid  her  loveliness. 
Watchful  eyes  abound,  even  on  the  East  Side  ! 

In  five  minutes,  the  click-click  of  the  beautiful  en 
gines  and  whirring  throb  of  the  twin  screws  told  that 
the  Fantine  was  gliding  along  —  a  perfect  dream  of 
beauty. 

From  the  windows  of  the  blue-curtained  cabin,  side  by 
side,  the  lady  and  her  lover  watched  the  shores  glide  by 
in  changing  beauty.  Onward,  up  through  pool  and  riffle, 
past  Hell  Gate's  yawning  ledges,  out  into  the  moonlit 


92  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.. 

glory  of  the  farther  waters  of  the  Sound,  the  fleet  Fantine 
sped  along. 

Richest  dainties, 'Served  with  flowing  cups  of  sparkling 
wine,  waited  for  the  lovers.  When  the  little  steamer  rose 
and  fell,  dashing  showers  of  diamond  spray  from  her 
graceful  bows  as  she  flew  along,  Marie  Ashton  lay  on  the 
cushions  of  the  after  cabin,  her  dreaming  eyes  fixed  on 
Morton's  face,  as  the  moonlight  showed  him  pleading  at 
her  feet. 

"  Don't  speak  now.  This  is  Paradise  !  "  she  murmured. 
"  Let  us  go  on  forever  so  !  " 

Far  beyond  the  old  battlements  of  Fort  Schuyler, 
under  the  frowning  walls  at  Willett's  Point,  where 
torpedo  and  dynamite  petard  wait  for  the  foemen  ; 
unchallenged  by  drowsy  sentinels,  past  the  silent,  grin 
ning  cannon  the  Fantine  darted — a  fairy  yacht  on  a 
silver  sea.  Sloop  and  shallop,  yacht  and  merry  boat 
parties,  were  left  behind.  The  ghostly  flitting  white 
sails  of  schooners  up  the  Sound  shone  spectral  in  the 
moonlight.  Puffing  little  tugs  dragged  along  ominous- 
looking  barges,  unable  in  their  dead  inertia  to  stem  the 
racing  tide. 

"  Mind  your  helm,  Captain  !  "  cried  Morton,  for  a 
moment  forgetting  the  dreamy  Venus  at  his  side. 

"  Aye  !  aye  !  sir,"  the  watchful  master  answered. 

So,  out  on  the  silvery  swelling  waves,  this  later  Antony 
forgot  the  world  in  the  smiles  of  a  modern  Cleopatra. 
Love  and  moonlight !  Heaven  on  earth  ! 

Past  great  blazing  lights,  on  beyond  point  and  island, 
whence  sweet,  wailing  music  floated  faintly  on  the  hushed 
waters,  the  Fantine  raced,  till  Harry  Morton  gave  the 
signal  for  return.  He  recked  not  of  time  as  they  swept 
homeward,  for  Marie  Ashton's  head  now  lay  on  his 
bosom.  Again  and  again  he  kissed  her  rich  lips,  as  her 
dreaming  eyes  unclosed,  and  softly  dropped  t^heir  lids 
beneath  his  ardent  gaze. 


DELILAH    OF    HART, KM,  93 

Back  in  the  hushed  hours  to  where  the  waters  rage 
over  fanged  rock  and  dangerous  ledge,  Morton  listlessly 
watched  the  lights  on  shore  flit  by.  Suddenly  the  black 
mass  of  a  huge  dredger  swung  in  sight.  There  was  a 
wild  yell,  and,  crash  !  the  treacherous  tide-rip  dashed 
the  Fantine  into  the  ponderous  anchored  mass,  dragging 
away  the  only  boat  at  the  davits.  Morton  grasped  the 
affrighted  Marie  in  his  arms. 

"  The  boat's  filling  !  "  yelled  the  engineer,  as  the  fire 
men  dashed  on  deck. 

"  Head  her  for  the  shore,"  shouted  Morton,  his  nerve 
returning.  Swaying  from  side  to  side,  in  a  struggle  with 
the  inrushing  water,  the  crippled  Fantine  slowly  neared 
the  New  York  shore.  When  fifty  feet  from  the  bank,  the 
beautiful  sinking  water-witch  rocked  to  one  side,  and 
went  down  by  the  stern.  Morton  was  in  the  river,  his 
Circe  clinging  wildly  to  him. 

Loosening  one  arm,  he  madly  struggled  till  he  reached 
the  bank,  where  a  dozen  passers-by  rushed  down  and 
drew  the  lover  and  his  lady  ashore.  Morton's  self-com 
mand  returned. 

"  The  men  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  All  safe — they  are  all  ashore,"  the  mate  yelled,  shak 
ing  his  dripping  form. 

Hastily  calling  for  the  captain,  Morton  pressed  his 
hand.  "  Look  out  well  for  the  men.  Keep  this  all  quiet," 
he  hoarsely  cried.  "  I'll  make  you  all  right." 

"  Now  get  me  a  carriage,  some  one — quick  !  "  cried  he, 
as  he  called  for  a  glass  of  brandy  for  the  hysteric  woman 
he  was  supporting. 

A  passing  carriage  dashed  up.  Hastily  forcing  Marie 
within,  4'  Drive  on  !  "  Morton  cried,  after  giving  a 
whispered  address  to  the  Jehu.  From  a  crowd  of  by 
standers,  attracted  from  a  neighboring  evening  resort, 
a  raffish  young  fellow  sprang  on  the  box  with  the 
driver. 


94  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Silence  !  "  he  whispered.  "  Here  is  a  five.  There's 
money  in  this.  I'm  a  reporter  !  "  The  driver  grinned. 
Another  New  York  social  escapade  ! 

A  half-hour's  wild  drive  brought  Morton  and  the  ex 
hausted  woman  to  her  Harlem  home.  As  the  carriage 
door  was  opened,  Morton  cried  :  "  I  must  have  some 
help.  She  has  fainted." 

"  I  can't  leave  my  horses,  sir.  It's  after  midnight," 
the  driver  cried.  "  My  brother  will  help."  And  aided 
by  the  new-found  brother,  Morton  bore  the  chilled  and 
frightened  Marie  to  her  rooms. 

In  a  few  moments  Fanny  was  busied,  wildly  rushing 
to  and  fro,  to  minister  to  the  exhausted  Marie.  Remov 
ing  his  soaked  outer  clothing,  Morton  chafed  Marie's 
hands  and  forced  cordials  into  her  pale  lips.  While  he 
labored  with  the  lady,  the  young  man,  aiding  Fanny, 
adroitly  gained  the  names  of  her  mistress  and  the  visitor. 
A  wild  flurry  of  excitement  possessed  the  negro  girl. 
With  a  bill  of  generous  amount,  presented  by  Morton,  in 
his  hand,  the  brother  wended  his  way  down-stairs,  whis 
tling  softly  as  he  closed  the  door. 

"  I  think  I  see  a  dollar  or  two  in  this,"  he  whispered. 
Dividing  the  money  on  the  basis  of  3  to  i  with  the 
driver,  the  unrecognized  newspaper  reporter  lit  his  cigar. 

"  Do  you  know  the  man  ? ''  the  driver  asked. 

"  Oh  !  yes— he's  all  right." 

u  And  the  woman  ?  "  the  Jehu  continued. 

"  Lady  from  the  country — visiting  friends  in  fifth  floor 
flat." 

This  journalistic  disciple  of  Ananias  neglected  to  say 
that  the  second  floor  apartment  was  the  home  of  the  fair 
shipwrecked  one,  and  that  he  reserved  her  name  for 
future  uses. 

With  merry  libations,  they  separated  —  the  reporter 
softly  scheming  to  himself  :  "  I'll  work  this  little  mine. 
I'll  give  him  a  rattling  article  in  Monday's  paper,  and  I'll 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  95 

set  Viola  Pomeroy  to  hunt  up  his  family  tree.  I  should 
say  he  had  rather  a  wet  time." 

Discreetly  leaving  his  friend  the  Jehu,  well  spiritualized 
by  frequent  libations,  the  reporter  with  professional  pride 
returned  alone  to  the  river  bank,  and  gained  every  detail 
of  the  occurrence. 

"By  Jove  !  it  was  lucky  I  happened  to  pass,"  he  cried, 
as  lie  made  notes  of  the  wreck.  "  I'll  make  a  scoop  for 
my  paper.  That  hackman  is  so  far  gone  he  will  remem 
ber  nothing.  I  am  the  man  in  this  case,"  the  journalist 
proudly  said,  as  he  gazed  on  his  ample  reward,  and  in 
dulged  in  a  quiet  drink,  after  stowing  away  his  note-book. 

"  I  will  have  a  few  more  of  your  clean  ten-dollar  bills, 
Mr.  Harry  Morton  !  "  cried  the  man  of  letters.  "  I  will 
bet  my  head  that  woman  was  not  your  wife."  For  the 
half-strangled  crew  had  told  all,  and  the  nearest  Directory 
in  an  all-night  drug-store  told  him  the  residence  of 
Henry  Morton,  Esq. — Morton,  Burnham  &  Co. — 386 
Madison  Avenue.  The  reporter  whistled. 

"  Well,  I  swear  !  he's  'way  out  of  his  bailiwick — in 
Harlem  !  However,  he's  not  the  only  one,"  cried  the 
man  of  the  pad  and  pencil,  as  he  sought  his  abode. 
"  I'll  see  Viola.  She's  the  girl  for  this  job  !  " 

While  the  hapless  Fantine  reposed  on  the  oozy  shores 
of  Hell  Gate,  and  the  half-drowned  crew  were  grumbling 
into  their  shelters  for  the  night,  Marie  Ashton,  restored 
and  recovered,  took  sudden  thought  for  Morton.  He  was 
chilled,  haggard,  and  shivering.  Comfortable  now  her 
self,  Marie  saw,  at  a  flash,  the  immense  social  danger  of 
this  midnight  accident  to  Henry  Morton. 

Resolutely  summoning  her  maid,  Marie,  insisted  on 
Morton  removing  his  outer  clothing.  Soon  by  a  rousing 
fire  in  Fanny's  department,  Morton,  well  wrapped  up  in 
blankets,  was  drinking  stiff  punches,  and  the  maid 
labored  with  his  garments. 


96  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Sunday  morning — nothing  procurable  !  You  must 
stay  here  till  we  can  send  out  and  you  can  get  quietly 
home,"  Marie  said  firmly. 

Morton  nodded,  for  fatigue  and  excitement  had  ex 
hausted  him.  "  Dry  all  my  clothes.  Look  out  for  the 
things  in  the  pockets — papers  and  all.  I  must  keep  this 
quiet."  Morton  fell  asleep  in  utter  exhaustion. 

Marie  Ashton's  face  was  pale  as  of  the  dead  when  she 
carefully  removed  all  the  articles  from  the  garments  of 
the  tired  man.  Leaving  him  to  the  deep  sleep  of  exhaus 
tion,  the  maid  busied  herself  with  smoothing  and  drying 
his  clothes. 

In  her  own  room,  with  all  the  gas  jets  flaring,  the  cur 
tains  tightly  drawn,  Marie  Ashton  herself  examined  and 
cared  for  Morton's  miscellaneous  pocket  articles.  A  red 
flush  was  on  her  cheek  as  she  unclasped  his  large  pocket- 
bock,  and  with  cloths,  irons,  and  blotters  averted  the 
entire  ruin  of  the  papers. 

Murmuring,  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  to  herself,  she 
faltered  :  "  Not  here — not  here  !  "  But  her  pulse  stopped 
beating  when,  from  an  inner  flap,  she  drew  out  a  little 
strip  of  parchment.  Tom  Overton  had  told  her  of  its 
general  presumed  appearance. 

Yes,  there  it  was — figures  and  letters  : 

"A.  C.  D.  39— K.  T.  U.— 71— E.  J.  P.  19—3  times  R. 
2  L." 

With  trembling  limbs  she  crawled  to  a  writing-desk, 
and  made  two  careful  copies  of  the  little  parchment. 
Hiding  one  in  a  secret  nook,  she  placed  the  other  in  a 
different  spot.  Then,  with  a  steely  look  in  her  eyes,  she 
murmured  :  "  My  God  !  it's  for  liberty."  She  approached 
the  exhausted  sleeper,  kissed  his  pale  face,  and  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears. 

Gazing  into  vacancy  for  an  hour,  Marie  Ashton  threw 
herself  dressed  on  the  bed.  Fanny,  her  toils  now  over, 
sat  near,  with  orders  not  to  sleep  at  her  peril. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  97 

At  eight  o'clock,  Marie  Ashton  opened  her  eyes. 
Morton  was  already  stirring.  The  sleepy  maid  served  a 
cup  of  coffee,  and  was  seat  to  seek  an  early  carriage. 
"  Have  it  stop  at  the  nearest  corner,"  cried  Morton. 
Hastily  replacing  his  pocket  articles,  without  a  glance  at 
them,  Morton  hurriedly  said  :  "  My  wife  will  be  at  church. 
I'll  get  into  the  Club — stay  there  till  I  know  she's  gone, 
and  not  a  word  then  to  any  one  !  I'll  get  easily  into  the 
house,  and  be  all  right  on  her  return." 

Morton  smiled  bitterly  as  he  saw  the  diamond  butterfly 
clinging  fast  to  Marie  Ashton's  robe,  stained  with  the 
waters  of  Hell  Gate. 

"  I'll  close  this  all  up,  and  keep  it  quiet.  Do  you 
never  breathe  it,"  he  cried,  as  he  prepared  to  depart. 
"  I  will  come  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can.  Let  me  know  by 
message  and  letter.  My  God  !  my  wife  !  "  he  groaned. 

"  Harry,"  Marie  Ashton  whispered,  as  she  clung  to 
him,  with  her  white  arms  wreathed  around  his  neck. 
"  You  saved  my  life.  You  know  what  that  means  !  " 
she  passionately  cried,  her  face  buried  in  his  bosom. 

"  I  do.  It  means  a  heaven  on  earth  for  me."  And  he 
was  gone. 


BOOK    II. 

IN    THE    TOILS. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

BREAKERS     AHEAD.         AWKWARD     EXPLANATIONS.          THE 
"  UNIVERSE  "    REPORTER. 

MORTON  whirled  away  to  his  club  in  wild  excitement. 
A  private  room  and  the  attentions  of  the  quick-witted 
steward  soon  rendered  a  return  to  his  home  possible. 
The  streets  were  quiet.  Yet  his  wife  must  be  away  ! 

The  church  bells  were  pealing  before  he  dared  ap 
proach  his  residence.  Refreshed  and  his  nerves  settled, 
he  spent  the  passing  hour  in  mental  reflection,  and  a  rapid 
arrangement  of  his  plans. 

"  I  must  shut  off  all  mention  of  this  accident.  I 
suppose  the  boat  can  be  raised.  I  don't  mind  that.  I'll 
send  for  the  captain  to  my  office  and  set  the  whole  crew 
at  work.  Money  will  keep  their  mouths  shut.  Thank 
heaven  !  nobody  knows  of  Marie's  identity.  I  can  ex 
plain  to  Claire." 

Before  his  cigar  was  finished,  Morton  decided  that  the 
less  said  to  Claire  the  better,  for  her  peace  of  mind  and 
his  safety.  Cautiously  ascending  the  avenue  in  a  closed 
carriage,  the  banker  was  delighted  to  see  his  own  equi 
page  dash  away  from  his  door. 

"She's  off  to  church,  thank  God!  Now,  I'm  safe! 
The  club  servants  won't  talk — too  many  little  social  oc 
currences  happen  there  for  them  to  bother  with  this. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  99 

Besides,  they  don't  dare  to.  They  don't  wish  to  lose  their 
annual  tips." 

Quietly  reaching  his  rooms,  Morton  donned  fresh  garb, 
unassuming  in  its  elegance.  With  thoughtful  brow,  he 
looked  over  the  contents  of  his  cast-off  clothing. 

"  All  safe  !  All  neatly  done  !  Papers  all  right  !  "  he 
hastily  concluded.  He  hid  away  his  damaged  clothing. 
With  an  impassive  face,  he  awaited  his  unsuspicious  wife's 
return.  •"  By  Jove  !  it's  lucky  the  whole  thing  passed 
off  so  well.  If  I  had  been  caught,  what  a  storm  around 
my  ears  !  " 

Then,  with  half-closed  eyes,  he  lingered  in  day-dreams 
of  the  Witch  of  Harlem — his  snaky  sweet  Delilah  ! 

Morton  could  feel  again  her  arms  clinging  to  him  in  a 
mad  embrace,  on  the  very  verge  of  death.  He  felt  an 
exquisite  thrill  in  his  heart  as  he  recalled  her  quick  care 
of  all  his  interests — her  provision  for  his  return,  and  all 
her  thoughtfulness.  But  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  treas 
ured  the  wild  devotion  with  which  she  cast  herself  on 
his  breast  at  parting. 

"  How  she  loves  me  !  "  he  proudly  thought.  "  She's  a 
royal  woman — a  queen  among  queens  !  " 

The  promise  of  her  shining  eyes  opened  to  him  a  golden 
future.  "  I  must  keep  her  here.  I  must  devise  a  plan  to 
see  her  quietly." 

Before  Claire  Morton,  with  thoughtful,  saddened  face 
crossed  her  own  threshold,  Harry's  brain  evolved  a  plan. 
It  was  partly  suggested  by  the  experiences  of  the  preced 
ing  night. 

"  I  have  it  now,"  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  eyes 
filled  with  secret  triumph  as  his  wife  entered  the  room. 
His  customary  kiss  and  usual  greeting  left  no  suspicion 
on  his  wife's  mind.  A  few  sporadic  questions  as  to  his 
trip  to  Philadelphia  enlivened  the  breakfast. 

"  No  suspicion  !  All  is  well,"  Morton  easily  satisfied 
himself. 


IOO  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Growing  bolder,  he  decided  to  drive  out  to  the  scene 
of  the  disaster.  "  The  captain  will  be  on  hand  there. 
I'll  get  him  at  once  at  work.  Then  he  need  not  come  to 
the  office.  I  will  cover  all  my  tracks." 

Slave  of  passion  !  Deceiver  and  doting  fool  !  He 
dared  not  yet  go  as  far  as  to  own,  to  his  own  conscience, 
before  his  gentle  wife,  that  he  would  retrace  his  night 
ride  and  see  Marie  Ashton's  face  before  the  moon  silvered 
again  the  river  beneath  whose  current  the  fleet  Fantine 
rested. 

Yet,  it  was  so.  The  finger  of  Destiny  was  pointing 
the  way. 

Standing  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  with  his  future  stretch 
ing  out  fair  before  him — a  superb  position,  an  assured 
fortune,  loyal  friends,  and  a  loving  wife — this  blinded, 
passionate  man  could  see  no  breakers  ahead  :  yet  his 
bark  of  life  was  driving  straight  on  the  reefs  where 
the  outstretched  white  arms  of  the  siren  who  had  en 
slaved  him  were  luring  him  on — on,  where  other  men's 
lives  had  been  sucked  down  in  the  whirlpool  of  pas 
sion  ! 

Only  another  double  life  !  Only  another  New  York 
fool !  'Tis  the  story  of  every  day. 

Fool  and  blind  !  While  fidgeting  in  his  preparation 
for  departure,  his  feet  would  have  been  glued  to  the 
ground  in  terror,  could  he  have  read  the  unmade  record 
of  forty-eight  hours.  For,  while  he  hastened  away,  with 
easy  lies  on  his  lips,  to  seek  to  cover  his  disaster  and  to 
join  his  sweet-faced  tyrant,  leaving  a  lonely  wife  in  a 
deserted  palace,  Ralph  Burnham,  with  dull  resentment 
and  a  haunting  fear  of  some  coming  evil,  was  wending 
his  way  to  Claire's  side. 

"  I'll  not  leave  her  utterly  alone.  She  shall  have  one 
faithful  friend  at  her  side — if  trouble  comes." 

Dangerous  friendships,  Mr.  Ralph  Burnham  !  The 
growing  confidences  of  an  old  lover  with  the  unhappy 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  IOI 

wife  of  a  bosom  friend  !  And  yet,  this  is  the  usual  out 
come  of  a  semi-detached  fashionable  marriage. 

As  Morton  cautiously  dismissed  his  carriage  a  few  hun 
dred  yards  from  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  he  noted 
a  motley  crowd  of  people  on  the  river  bank.  A  sturdy 
little  tug  was  puffing  away  near  the  shore,  with  several 
lines  attached  to  the  wreck,  and  the  miniature  crosstrees 
of  the  Fantine's  masts  were  well  out  of  water. 

As  he  hastily  approached,  the  yacht  captain,  with 
beaming  face,  neared  him.  Making  a  sign  for  silence, 
Morton  led  the  way  to  a  neighboring  river  restaurant. 

None  of  the  loiterers  appeared  to  know  him,  and  the 
throng  of  idlers  seemed  only  curious  passing  wanderers. 

"  Well,  Morris  !'  I  see  you're  hard  at  work.  What's 
the  news  ?  "  the  banker  asked. 

"  All  going  well,  sir,"  joyfully  answered  the  master. 
"  I  found  this  tug,  luckily,  and  got  the  Fantine  pulled  in 
well  on  shore  at  low  tide.  We  are  swinging  her  stern  in 
now.  WTe  have  grappled  her,  and  got  strong  lines  on 
her.  To-morrow,  I  can  get  a  diver  down  and  get  a  sail 
over  her  bows.  She's  lying  on  mud.  She  won't  break 
up." 

"  Excellent  !  "  cried  Morton.  "  Do  what  is  right,  and 
get  her  over  to  the  floating  dock.  I'll  give  you  an  order 
for  her  repair." 

The  banker  scratched  off  an  imperative  carte  blanche, 
in  his  note-book,  to  the  builders. 

Handing  it  to  Morris,  he  said  :  "  Keep  the  men  all  on 
duty  and  at  work.  Send  me  a  despatch  to  the  office 
when  she's  on  the  ways.  I  am  pleased  with  your  energy." 

The  skipper  stood  waiting  further  instructions,  "  By 
the  way,  Morris,  don't  have  any  talk  over  this.  Keep 
your  men  in  hand.  Just  as  well  no  one  knew  I  was  on 
board.  No  one  been  prying  into  the  thing  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul,  sir,"  Morris  confidently  answered.  "  I'll 
follow  your  wishes." 


IO2  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

The  sailor  ruefully  expressed  his  sorrow  for  the  accident 
to  the  lovely  craft — his  darling. 

"  Can't  be  helped,  Morris  !  It's  well,  as  long  as  we 
are  all  right.  I  know  these  hidden  currents  are  terrible 
in  Hell  Gate.  We'll  have  her  on  her  sea-legs  in  a 
week." 

"  How's  the  lady,  sir — if  I  may  make  bold  ?  "  said  Mor 
ris,  shifting  from  one  leg  to  another. 

"  Oh  !  she's  all  right,"  hastily  said  the  banker,  a  red 
spot  flaming  on  his  cheeks.  "  I'll  come  over  as  soon  as 
I  get  your  despatch.  Take  this  money."  Morton  handed 
Morris  a  roll  of  bills.  "  Use  your  sound  discretion.  I'll 
provide  all  you  need.  Good-by  !  I'm  a  little  stiff  and 
need  rest.  That  was  a  hard  swim  !  " 

Morris,  greatly  relieved,  hastened  away  to  his  duty, 
and  the  banker,  casting  a  last  look  at  his  submerged 
yacht,  slowly  strolled  up  the  street. 

Had  he  looked  back,  he  might  have  seen  the  helpful 
"  brother  "  of  the  night  before  scanning  some  gaudy 
playbills  not  twenty  yards  from  him,  as  he  turned  the 
corner. 

Morton's  brow  cleared  and  his  heart  beat  high.  Look 
ing  backward,  was  not  his  inner  thought.  Looking  for 
ward  !  He  was  "  looking  forward  "  to  seeing  Marie 
Ashton  again,  with  blazing  eyes  and  open  arms.  He 
was  eager  to  hear  her  passionate,  ringing  voice  cry  once 
more,  "  You  saved  my  life  !  " 

So  ever  forward,  he  hastened  into  those  breakers  of 
passion  closing  round  him,  whose  roar  was  not  to  reach 
his  ears  till  too  late. 

With  an  unknown  spy  on  his  trail,  Morton  doubled  and 
turned,  finally — hidden  by  the  lowered  curtains  from 
sight — driving  rapidly  in  a  coupe  to  his  idol's  covert  nest 
u  I've  done  a  very  good  day's  work,"  the  reporter  mur 
mured,  as,  with  his  feet  on  the  cushions  of  a  chance  cab, 
he  pulled  away  at  a  ferocious-looking  cigar.  "  I  have 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  103 

this  rich  fool  now  in  my  power.  I'll  have  a  fifty-dollar 
check  from  the  *  Universe  '  for  this  social  escapade. 
As  for  him,  between  Viola  Pomeroy  and  myself,  we  will 
bleed  this  gay  lover  for  a  good  purse.  She  can  work  on 
the  wife.  I'll  handle  the  husband."  He  peered  steadily 
through  the  glass,  his  sharp  Jehu  following,  closely  but 
cautiously,  the  wheels  of  the  lover's  chariot. 

Morton,  in  the  fever  of  passion,  dreamed  of  his  recep 
tion.  His  ardor  would  have  cooled  had  he  seen,  while 
breakfasting  with  his  wife,  the  sturdy  form  of  Thomas 
Overton  stealing  up  the  stairway  to  Marie  Ashton's  room. 
The  nets  were  spreading  for  him  ! 

For,  entering  the  maid's  rooms,  Overton's  eyes  opened 
wide,  when  he  saw  the  water-stained  finery  scattered 
around. 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  he  roughly  cried,  seizing  the 
negro  girl's  arm. 

She  stammered,  in  fright  :  "  Please,  sir,  I  don't  know. 
Miss  Marie's  been  gone  an'  drownded  herself,  and  she's 
come  to  all  right.'*" 

"  Fool  !  "  he  cried,  throwing  her  off,  and  striding  into 
the  parlors. 

Marie  Ashton  sprang  up,  her  eyes  blazing  at  this  rough 
intrusion. 

"  Well,  well  !  What's  happened  ?  No  nonsense  !  Tell 
me  all."  Overton's  voice  had  an  ugly  ring. 

The  gambler  keenly  watched  Marie  Ashton,  while  she 
told  the  unvarnished  truth  as  to  the  whole  trip,  saving 
only  those  little  passages  of  sentiment  which  were  now 
keeping  Morton's  blood  in  fever. 

"  You  have  ruined  all,  Kate,"  he  gloomily  said.  "  We 
may  as  well  break  camp.  This  will  all  come  out  in  the 
sensational  papers." 

"  Have  I  ?  "  she  stubbornly  sneered.     "  You  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  do.  I  know  it.  There'll  be  a  hubbub  about  this.  It 
will  get  your  name  in  the  'society  '  journals."  Overton 


IO4  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

fumed  up  and  down  the  richly  decorated  rooms.  "  We 
may  as  well  try  the  West  and  South  again.  Has  he  been 
here  to-day  ?  "  the  gambler  roughly  asked. 

"  Not  yet,  but  he  will  come,"  Marie  cried,  with  a  con 
fident  smile  ;  "and  I  don't  want  him  to  see  you." 

"  Indeed  !  And  why  not  ?  "  Overton's  hot  blood 
crimsoned  his  brow  and  flushed  his  swarthy  cheeks. 

"  There's  your  reason  !  "  calmly  said  Marie,  throwing 
him  the  copy  of  the  combination. 

"  By  God  !  you're  an  angel,"  Overton  cried.  "  How 
did  you  get  this  ?  Quick  !  Tell  me  all  !  " 

Marie  Ashton  briefly  told  the  story  of  the  pocket-book. 
It  was  her  chef-d'oeuvre. 

"  And  he  does  not  suspect  ? "  Tom  cried  hoarsely. 
"This  is  glorious  !  " 

"How  can  he?  He  never  even  opened  his  book  to 
look  at  it,"  Marie  replied.  "  He  was  so  anxious  to  get 
away  and  not  be  discovered.  He  trusts  me  blindly.  " 
Her  smile  was  devilish  in  derision. 

"  I  have  the  partners  now  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand. 
We  are  safe  for  a  quarter  of  a  million.  You're  a 
genius  !  "  Tom  cried,  excitedly,  poring  over  the  figures 
and  letters. 

"  You  are  sure  this  copy  is  right  ?  "  he  faltered,  his 
eyes  glued  on  the  paper.  "  My  life  might  hang  on  it." 

"  I  had  an  hour  to  copy  it  in,  while  he  slept,  and  I  read 
it  twenty  times — forward  and  backward,"  Marie  proudly 
replied. 

Overton  was  excited.  "  But  you  might  have  mistaken 
a  letter,"  Tom  persisted. 

"True,"  the  calm  woman  replied,  handing  him  a  piece 
of  tissue.  "  I  traced  this  before  I  copied  the  one  you 
have." 

"  You  are  one  woman  in  a  million.  You  have  saved 
us,"  the  overjoyed  gambler  cried. 

"Tom,  you  change  your  opinions  very  quickly,"  she 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  105 

coldly  replied.  "  Now,  don't  linger  here.  He  might  sus 
pect,  to  see  you  here  !  Tell  me  all  your  plans  now,"  she 
said,  with  stern  authority. 

"  By  Jove  !  she  has  me  in  her  clutches,"  thought  Tom, 
with  a  flash  of  unaccustomed  cowardice.  "  I'll  be  very 
smooth." 

Drawing  her  near  him,  he  whispered  :  "  Hear  me  !  I 
have  the  poor  devil  who  controls  the  outer  bank  vault 
doors  in  my  power.  This  paper  he  won't  see.  I'll  make 
him  a  scapegoat  !  We  are  safe.  This  job  may  take  a 
couple  of  months'  time.  I'll  fix  all  ready  for  us  to  get 
away.  I  can  get  a  report  of  every  day's  doings  down  be 
low.  I  will  return  to  New  York  officially,  and  mystify 
this  fool  Morton.  Now,  Kate,"  he  pleadingly  said,  "  wind 
him  around  your  fingers.  I'll  give  you  the  rope.  Keep 
his  whole  mind  fixed  on  you.  He  won't  dare  to  squeal 
after  his  night  frolic  with  you.  We'll  do  a  little  turn  here 
that  will  fix  us  both  for  life.  Morton  is  tied  up  by  his  wife 
and  fear  of  old  Seth  Wise." 

"  And  then  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Europe  !  South  America  !  Liberty  and  a  fortune  for 
you  !  " 

"  I'll  do  it  ! "  she  answered,  her  face  hardening  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I'm  off !  I'll  get  in  here  before  ten  o'clock  when  I 
come.  He  has  to  open  the  vaults  every  day.  He  must 
show  up  there  at  ten  every  day.  So  I'm  safe  here  in  the 
mornings." 

Overton  hastily  drained  a  glass  of  brandy  from  a  ca 
rafe  on  the  sideboard,  and  disappeared,  eager  to  confer 
with  Riley,  his  fidus  Achates.  Now,  the  vault  secret  was 
his  own  ! 

Marie  Ashton — a  cool  and  confident  smile  on  her  face 
— seated  herself  at  her  writing-desk,  and  copied  the 
duplicate  paper  she  had  treasured. 

Hastily  enclosing  it  in   an  envelope  with  a  brief  note, 


106  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

and  sealing  it,  she  wrote  an  address  far  below  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line,  and,  with  composure,  sent  her  maid  to  de 
posit  this  letter  in  the  nearest  box. 

"  Just  as  well,  in  case  of  accident !  "  she  murmured. 
"  Even  Tom  Overton  is  my  slave,  thus." 

While  the  maid  dallied  on  her  errand,  Marie  deftly  en 
closed  the  other  paper  in  a  fold  of  her  corset,  restitching 
the  seams  with  flying  fingers. 

"  I  will  dress  now,  Fanny,"  the  Witch  of  Harlem  cheer 
fully  commanded,  on  the  maid's  return. 

When  Harry  Morton  eagerly  bounded  up  the  staircase, 
the  breezes  of  early  afternoon  were  softly  swinging  the 
leafy  branches  of  the  Park  trees.  The  bright  blue  skies- 
were  flecked  with  fleecy  clouds  overhead,  and,  down  on 
the  avenue  below,  the  clicking  feet  of  fleet-footed  steeds, 
bearing  pleasure-seekers  to  shady  grove  and  beyond  the 
city's  hum,  were  merrily  sounding  in  a  rattling  chorus. 

As  Harry  Morton,  a  fierce  light  flaming  in  his  eyes, 
caught  the  glowing  Marie  to  his  bosom,  she  laid  a  rosy 
finger  on  his  lip.  "  Wait  !  "  she  whispered,  leaving  him 
for  a  few  moments.  His  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer 
till  his  goddess  was  with  him  again. 

"  I  have  given  my  maid  a  holiday,"  she  shyly  said. 
tl  Now,  tell  me  of  your  whole  life.  Tell  me  all,"  she 
murmured,  as,  in  the  half-light  of  the  cool,  shaded  rooms 
Morton  drew  her  to  his  breast. 

When  shadows  fell  across  the  darkening  pathways  of  the 
Park,  Henry  Morton,  blind  with  love's  delirium,  dragged 
himself  unwillingly  away  to  the  home  he  had  deserted, 
and  the  loving  woman  he  had  again  betrayed. 

He,  a  newer  Samson  in  the  hands  of  the  fairest  of 
modern  Delilahs,  had  yielded  up  the  secrets  of  heart, 
mind,  and  soul  to  the  woman  who,  listening  to  his  foot 
steps  dying  away  on  the  stair,  threw  herself  on  the  divan 
and  scornfully  cried  :  "  These  are  men,  indeed— the  men 
of  our  day  !  The  men  of  every  day  !  To  leave  one 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  107 

woman,  betrayed  and  broken-hearted,  and  swear  eternal 
devotion  to  another  whose  ruined  life  is  the  work  of  some 
fellow  of  their  own.  All  these  fools  are  blind — blind, 
vicious,  and  vain  !  " 

Marie  Ashton,  after  a  cigarette  and  a  subtle  cordial, 
fell  asleep,  her  siren  face  pillowed  on  a  gleaming  ivory 
arm. 

While  the  sorceress  slumbered — with  dreams  as  rosy 
as  the  heart  visions  of  an  innocent  child — Morton  re 
gained  his  home.  Moody  of  brow,  silent  and  morose, 
the  cabalistic  word,  "  Business  !  "  sealed  his  wife's  lips. 

"  I  had  to  see  a  lot  of  men.  Women  never  understand 
these  things,"  he  roughly  said,  as  he  trifled  with  his 
splendid  dinner. 

Women  do  intuitively  understand  many  things.  Mor 
ton  undervalued  his  wife's  depth  of  feeling. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  with  vague  distrust,  "  you  work  too 
hard.  Let  us  go  away  for  a  few  weeks.  Surely  Uncle 
Wise  and  Ralph  could  let  you  go.  Let  us  go  away.  I 
see  so  little  of  you  !  You  will  come  back  happier  and 
fresher  for  the  long  winter's  work." 

Morton  started  in  surprise.  He  looked  kindly  on  her. 
"  Impossible,  my  dear  child  !  I  could  not  leave  now.  I 
have  some  very  important  matters  in  Boston  that  will 
take  me  up  there  once  a  week  for  some  time.  Some  old 
investments  of  my  own  !  I  can  only  be  away  from  the 
bank  from  Saturday  noon  till  Monday  morning." 

"  And  so  you'll  have  to  be  away  even  more  than  now," 
Claire  cried,  with  faltering  lips. 

"  I  fear  so  !  I  fear  so  !  "  Morton  speciously  rejoined. 
He  dared  not  confess  to  this  loving  woman  that  he  madly 
hoped  so.  For  Marie  Ashton  alone  knew  the  ingenious 
little  plan  veiled  under  the  name  of  "  business  in  Bos 
ton." 

The  poorest  strollers  in  Madison  Avenue,  as  the  lights 
went  out,  one  by  one,  in  Morton's  splendid  home,  carried 


loS  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

happier  hearts  under  their  shabby  clothes  than  the  hand 
some  young  couple,  in  their  splendid  home.  The  man's 
heart  was  filled  with  maddening  passions  let  loose,  with 
base  deceit,  and  the  woman's  sleepless  eyes  filled  with 
tears  of  vague  distrust. 

Morning  dawned  once  more.  New  York — in  inverse 
order  of  rank — arose  to  its  noisy  whirl  of  chaffering,  its 
battles  of  the  Street,  its  schemes,  and  its  lying  in  wait  for 
the  unwary  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages. 

Morton,  hastily  bidding  his  wife  good-by,  noted  not 
her  reddened  eyes — nor  the  pale  cheeks  telling  of  a  vigil 
of  the  night.  Grasping  his  "  Herald,"  he  buried  his  face 
in  it  on  reaching  the  Elevated  train. 

Immersed  in  the  financial  predictions  and  multitudinous 
chaff  of  the  day,  he  noted  not  the  sly  winks  and  furtive 
nudging  of  fellow-travellers  who  knew  him  as  well  as  the 
statues  in  Franklin  Square. 

Rapidly  striding  into  his  private  office,  he  threw  aside 
his  journal  and  reached  for  his  usual  pile  of  letters,  after 
opening  the  inner  vault  doors. 

An  unusual  hum  and  bustle  seemed  to  agitate  the 
clerks.  "  I'm  nervous,"  he  muttered,  as  he  closed  his 
private  door. 

In  grave  surprise,  he  looked  up  as  Ralph  Burnham 
entered  his  room,  in  half  an  hour,  without  knocking. 

"What's  the  matter,  Burnham  ?  What's  wrong?  "he 
asked,  noting  Burnham's  black  brow. 

"Come  into  my  room,  Morton,"  said  Burnham  bluntly. 
"  I  want  to  talk  to  you  in  private." 

Ralph's  manner  was  imperative.  Latching  his  door, 
Morton  strode  into  Burnham's  retired  room.  Quietly 
locking  the  door,  Ralph  said  harshly,  "  Sit  down  !  Look 
at  that,  and  then  tell  me  what  it  means,"  thrusting  a 
copy  of  the  New  York  "Universe"  under  his  partner's 
nose. 

The  New  York  "  Universe,"  whose   gilded    tower  of 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  lOp 

Babel  caps  New  York  City,  and  guides  the  befogged 
mariners  from  sea,  is  the  fountain  of  life  to  that  younger 
America  which  lives  on  nerves  and  sensation. 

Its  social  stories  are  garbled  by  grinning  yokel  and 
weary  dilettante — its  profound  deductions  are  accepted, 
cum  grano  salis,  by  politician  and  millionnaire — while  its 
dashing  enterprise  makes  the  great  deep  of  New  York 
City  to  boil  like  a  pot. 

Pride  of  the  newsboy — terror  of  the  socially  aspiring- 
wasp  in  the  shrinking  flesh  of  the  guilty — it  is  a  great 
organ.  It  can  make  and  unmake  reputations,  and  has 
left  many  crippled  victims  behind  in  its  onward  journal 
istic  career. 

Secrets  of  the  toilet,  stories  of  the  clubs,  wicked  bits 
of  gossip  filtered  through  fluttering  fans,  gorgeous  Euro 
pean  canards,  wild  political  histories"  fearful  financial 
embroilments — all  these  things  adorn  and  embellish  its 
columns.  For  judicious  display  and  largeness  of  type, 
for  slashing  assertion  and  reckless  lashings  of  those  who 
catch  the  public  eye,  impartially  laid  on — it  is  at  once  the 
terror  and  the  pride  of  New  York. 

Morton's  eyes  grew  flaming,  in  their  wild  eagerness, 
as  he  descried  huge  capitals  and  liberal  display  adorning 
the  following  item  : 

THRILLING    ADVENTURE   ON    THE    EAST    RIVER! 

SINKING  OF  MR.   HENRY  MORTON'S  STEAM  YACHT 

FANTINE. 

MIDNIGHT  COLLISION  IN  HELL  GATE  ! 

Gallant  Rescue  of  an  Unknown  Lady  by 

Mr.  Harry  Morton. 

The  "  Universe,"  with  its  usual  enterprise,  lays  before  its  readers 
this  morning  the  exclusive  news  of  the  sinking  of  the  well-known 
clubman  and  financier  Mr.  Henry  Morton's  beautiful  steam-yacht, 
Fantine,  at  twenty  minutes  past  one,  Saturday  night,  in  the  narrowest 
part  of  Hell  Gate.  The  dainty  craft  now  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the 


110  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

East  River,  having  been  sunk  by  a  collision  with  the  Government 
dredger,  while  returning  from  a  moonlight  cruise  up  the  Sound. 
From  our  reporter — who  happened  to  be  near  the  spot,  and  hastened 
to  the  scene  of  the  disaster — we  learn  that  a  hidden  current  caused 
the  boat,  at  high  speed,  to  fail  in  answering  the  helm.  Before 
speed  could  be  reduced,  she  crashed  into  a  Government  dredger 
anchored  in  the  stream,  carrying  away  the  only  boat. 

With  rare  presence  of  mind,  Mr.  Harry  Morton,  who  is  an  expe 
rienced  yachtsman,  ordered  the  engineer,  who  stuck  nobly  to  his 
post,  to  run  for  the  shore. 

The  boat  sank  thirty  yards  from  shore,  her  bows  being  stove  in. 
The  crew,  seizing  floating  wreckage,  reached  the  banks  in  safety. 

We  must  accord  the  meed  of  heroism  to  Mr.  Morton,  who,  hastily 
throwing  off  his  coat,  swam  ashore  with  the  only  helpless  one,  a 
lady  guest,  in  whose  honor  the  excursion  was  projected.  When 
reaching  the  bank,  Mr.  Morton  and  his  fair  charge,  almost  drowning, 
were  aided  by  people  attracted  by  the  cries. 

With  some  difficulty,  the  gallant  rescuer  and  his  guest,  a  lady  of 
rarest  beauty,  were  revived,  and  soon  left  in  a  carriage,  little  the 
worse  for  their  involuntary  plunge  in  the  river.  The  name  of  the 
lady  is  not  ascertained,  but  rumor  has  it  she  is  a  lovely  widow  from 
the  West  Side. 

The  crew  remained  on  the  spot — Mr.  Morton,  with  characteristic 
liberality,  having  given  them  carte  blanche  at  the  nearest  hotels. 
The  boat  will  doubtless  be  raised,  as  tugs  are  to-day  drawing  her  off, 
and  divers  are  working  at  holes  in  the  hull.  The  damage  will  be 
many  thousands  of  dollars. 

The  New  York  Yacht  Club  has  reason  to  be  proud  of  Mr.  Morton's 
gallantry. 

When  Morton  finished  reading  this  unexpected  "  trib 
ute  to  his  heroism,"  he  dashed  the  paper  down  and  cried  : 

"  A  pack  of  d d  lies  !  I  have  nothing  to  say."  He 

turned  to  go. 

"  But  I  have,  Morton,"  said  Burnham,  folding  his 
arms  and  barring  access  to  the  door.  "  This  escapade 
will  break  your  wife's  heart." 

"  Let  my  wife's  name  alone  !  "  cried  Morton,  losing 
all  self-control. 

Burnham  continued  :  "I  will,  sir;  and  I'll  also  leave 
this  firm  rather  than  see  her  made  a  fool  of.  She's  my 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  Ill 

cousin.     Don't  forget  that  !  "     Throwing  open  the  door, 
Burnham  walked  out. 

Morton  strode  angrily  to  his  room.  "  Telegram  for 
you,  sir  !  Answer,  please  !  "  calmly  said  Abel  Cram, 
with  a  leer  in  his  eye  not  lost  on  Morton. 

"  He's  read  this  dirty  scrawl  also,"  inwardly  thought 
Morton.  "  Wait !  Cram,"  he  said,  imperiously.  Tearing 
open  the  yellow  envelope,  the  words  danced  before  him 
as  he  read  : 

386  MADISON  AVENUE, 

Monday,  n  A.M. 
Your  wife  dangerously  ill.      Come  at  once.     Answer. 

I.  H.  ATKINSON,  M.D. 

"So  she's  got  this  delightful  news  too,"  Morton  raved 
inwardly.  Scrawling  an  answer,  "  Up  at  once,"  he  threw 
the  boy  a  dollar  bill.  "  Call  a  coupe  instantly,"  he 
shouted. 

"  I'll  be  down  to-morrow  morning,"  he  said  coldly  to 
Cram.  "  Report  to-day  all  business  to  Mr.  Burnham. 
If  you  want  any  directions  from  me,  send  up  the  bank 
messengers  to  my  house."  Morton  seized  his  hat,  gloves, 
and  stick,  and  darted  to  the  door,  as  the  coupe  rattled  up. 

At  the  bank  door  he  was  confronted  by  a  new  tor 
mentor.  Old  Seth  Wise — his  hat  firmly  settled  on  his 
gray  head — grasped  his  arm. 

"  See  here,  young  man  !  I  want  to  see  you  about  this 
foolishness  of  yours." 

"  You  must  get  in  that  coupe  with  me  then.  Don't 
talk  here  and  make  a  scene.  My  wife's  very  sick.  I 
must  get  home."  Morton's  mood  was  dangerous. 

Seth  Wise  growled  and  entered  the  carriage.  For  a 
dozen  blocks,  a  bitter  war  of  words  raged  between  the 
old  silent  partner  and  the  young  financier. 

"  It's  all  a  pack  of  lies,"  Morton  fairly  yelled.  "  The 
woman  was  the  captain's  wife,"  he  desperately  said, 
snatching  at  this  trifling  straw.  "  I'll  sue  them  for  libel." 


112  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Old  Seth's  eyes  were  very  cold  as  he  harshly  said  : 
"  Claire  told  me  yesterday  afternoon  you  had  been  at 
Philadelphia.  Was  that  true  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  shouted  Morton.  "  I  had  some  private  busi 
ness  of  my  own." 

"  Stop  this  carriage,"  Seth  commanded.  "  You  can 
patch  this  up  and  lie  to  your  wife  as  you  want  to.  I'll 
get  out  and  go  to  the  bank.  If  there's  any  more  of  this, 
you'll  run  a  new  firm, -young  man  !  "  The  sturdy  old 
veteran  stumped  away,  without  a  good-by,  and  hailed  a 
passing  vehicle. 

Morton's  throbbing  temples  were  ready  to  burst  with 
passion.  His  brain  was  on  fire.  Insulted — shamed — 
made  ludicrous — cornered  by  his  two  partners  and  jeered 
at  by  his  clerks  !  Then  the  club  gossip  !  Lastly,  his  wife  ! 

"  I  must  placate  her,  for  old  Seth's  sake  !  By  heavens  ! 
it  is  devilish.  Who  could  have  betrayed  me  ?  Well  ! 
I'll  brave  it  out.  I  must  protect  Marie  Ashton."  His 
memory  brought  back  the  wild  joys  of  the  night  before. 
"  Whom  the  gods  wish  to  destroy  they  first  make  mad  !  " 

As  he  reached  his  home,  the  stolid  butler  opened  the 
door.  There  was  a  leer  in  his  eye  also.  u  Several 
reporters  been  here,  sir  !  " 

"  Out,  to  everyone,"  Morton  fiercely  commanded.  The 
scion  of  Albion  bowed. 

"  How  did  this  illness  occur  ?  "  Morton  hastily  queried. 

"  Can't  say  as  how,  sir,"  the  butler  babbled,  taking  his 
master's  impedimenta.  "  Doctor's  upstairs,  sir.  I  took 
the  mail  up  to  Missus.  I'd  'a'  no  more  been  down  stairs 
fifteen  minutes  than  the  maid  ran  down  for  me  to  call 
the  doctor.  Missus  had  fainted  dead  away. " 

Morton's  foot  was  on  the  stairs.  "  Some  devil  sent  her 
the  paper  marked  !  "  he  correctly  guessed. 

Gathering  himself  up,  he  met  the  family  physician  at 
the  door  of  his  wife's  darkened  rooms. 

The  medico  drew  him  aside  to  a  safe  distance.     "  On 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  113 

your  peril,  don't  go  in,  Mr.  Morton,"  he  gravely  ordered. 
"  Your  wife  has  had  a  great  shock.  I  have  a  nurse  in 
charge.  I  will  not  leave  this  afternoon.  I  do  not  dare 
to.  Go  down  and  I  will  join  you." 

In  fifteen  minutes,  the  young  banker  had  repeated  all 
his  quickly  constructed  tale  to  the  doctor. 

"  You  have  seen  this  article  ? "  Morton  asked. 

"  It  was  called  to  my  attention,"  dryly  answered  the 
Esculapian  disciple.  His  eye  had  a  doubting  gleam  in  it. 
How  many  family  crises  of  this  nature  the  fashionable 
doctor  had  witnessed  ! 

With  aplomb,  he  confidentially  said  :  "  Calm  her  when 
she  can  see  you.  Keep  all  the  journals  away  from  her. 
Cheer  her  up.  Take  her  out  of  town  a  little  when  she  is 
better." 

"  Doctor,  I  can't  leave  town  now.  You  must  urge  her 
to  a  change  of  scene.  I'll  fit  her  out  royally.  Anything 
you  suggest !  " 

"  Very  good  !  "  murmured  the  physician.  "  We  will  see. 
We  will  see.  Of  course,  your  vast  business  ;  so  much 
depends  on  you."  Morton  bowed.  There  was  an  awk 
ward  pause. 

"  Join  me  at  luncheon  as  soon  as  you  can,"  Morton 
hospitably  said. 

In  a  half-hour,  a  well-ordered  breakfast  was  before 
them.  "  We  are  going  on  very  well,"  the  doctor  blandly 
said,  as  he  addressed  himself  to  the  dainties  and  sipped 
his  Sauterne. 

Morton  was  still  ill  at  ease.  He  had  posted  his  body- 
servant  to  intercept  all  calls,  and  bring  him  any  impor 
tant  news.  In  an  hour,  the  quick-witted  valet  handed 
him  a  note  from  Captain  Morris. 

Monday  afternoon. 

Have  got  Fantine  on  the  ways  now.  Damage  not  so  bad.  Re 
porters  here.  Have  shut  them  all  out. 

MORRIS. 


114  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Morton  hastily  scrawled  a  letter  to  the  sailor.  He 
had  to  reveal  to  him  the  pleasing  fiction  about  his  wife. 
He  gave  imperative  directions  as  to  outsiders  and  the 
story  of  the  rescue. 

Morton  breathed  freer  over  his  afternoon  cigar.  The 
hours  whiled  away,  with  occasional  brief  notes  from  the 
bank.  Doctor  Atkinson  soon  announced  that  he  could 
safely  see  his  patient  after  dinner.  All  seemed  to  clear 
up.  "  I'll  get  Claire  away  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and 
smooth  this  over." 

Gazing  vacantly  out  of  the  window  at  five  o'clock,  his 
valet  brought  him  a  card  and  a  telegraph  message. 

"This  man  won't  be  denied,  sir,"  the  valet  said. 
"  He's  an  out-and-out  sharp  one.  Had  you  better  not 
see  him  ?  He  won't  go  away  for  me.  Says  he  must  see 
you." 

Morton's  eyes  blazed  when  he  read,  on  a  well-thumbed 
card,  the  words  : 


Reporter, 
New   York  "  Universe.'1'' 


"  Let  him  come  in  the  basement  hall,"  Morton  di 
rected.  "  Some  new  form  of  devilment !  "  he  thought,  as 
his  blood  boiled.  "  I'll  fix  him  !  " 

Tearing  open  the  message,  the  banker's  face  grew 
devilish  as  he  read  a  note  from  Captain  Morris  : 

Very  sorry — won't  do.     Single  man — never  been  married. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  115 

"  So  that  story  is  exploded  !  I'll  have  to  brave  it  out, 
but  I  must  see  Mane  and  warn  her.  I'll  go  up  there  to 
night."  He  grimly  folded  the  telegram  and  descended 
the  stair.  "  Now  for  Mr.  Edward  Haggerty  !  " 

Morton  did  not  recognize  the  assistant  of  the  fatal 
Saturday  night  in  the  flashily  dressed  youth  whose  fer 
ret-eyes  were  fixed  on  him  steadily.  He  had  merely 
glanced  at  him  as  they  carried  Marie  Ashton  up  the  dark 
stairway  on  the  evening  of  the  wreck.  His  eyes  were 
then  only  for  his  lovely  burden. 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  Morton  said  sternly.  "  Be  brief.  I  have 
an  invalid  in  the  house.  What  do  you  wish?"  His 
voice  had  an  impatient  ring  in  it. 

"  I  must  see  you  now — for  a  few  minutes — and  have 
a  serious  talk  with  you,"  the  young  man  firmly  said. 

"  What  about  ?  "  demanded  the  banker. 

"  About  this  affair  of  Saturday  night." 

"  Come  in  here,"  growled  the  banker,  opening  the  door 
of  the  servants'  dining-room.  "  Now,  sir  !  Proceed  !  " 

"  I  have  all  the  facts  of  that  strange  occurrence," 
Haggerty  remarked  carefully.  u  I  know  every  detail.  I 
will  be  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Morton.  You  ought  to  keep 
this  matter  as  far  as  you  can  from  the  public.  Now,  I 
make  my  living  by  my  pen.  I  can  get  a  large  sum  for 
the  full  details  of  this  affair.  Do  you  want  it  kept  out  ? 
It's  a  mere  matter  of  business  to  me.  It  means  a  great 
deal  to  a  man  in  your  position." 

"  Did  your  paper  send  you  to  me  on  this  infamous 
errand  ?  "  Morton  hissed,  rising. 

"  No,  sir,"  coldly  replied  the  scribe.  "  I  am  an  '  occa 
sional.'  I  sell  my  articles  where  I  can  get  the  most  for 
them." 

"  Ah  !  a  blackmailer  !  "  sneered  Morton. 

"  I'm  not  particular  what  you  call  it,"  doggedly  said 
Haggerty.  "  I  know  the  name  and  residence  of  the 
woman  you  took  out  last  night.  She's  not  your  wife." 


Il6  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Morton  sprang  at  him  with  upraised  fist.  "  Hold 
on  !  "  cried  the  reporter,  springing  nimbly  back.  "  I'm 
a  pugilist.  I'll  lay  you  out  in  two  minutes." 

Morton  was  at  bay.  His  sick  wife  !  The  scandal  ! 
Marie  Ashton  !  His  future  ! 

"  Be  reasonable,"  coolly  continued  the  writer.  "  I 
will  prove  to  you,  to  your  cost,  I  know  every  detail.  If 
you  don't  trade,  I'm  free  to  use  all  I  know,  after  your 
gentlemanly  reception."  There  was  a  stinging  sneer  in 
his  voice. 

"  What's  your  price  ?  "  Morton  said,  his  eye  steadily 
fixed  on  Haggerty,  who  backed  away,  his  hands  up  a  la 
John  L. 

"  Five  thousand  dollars,"  unblushingly  remarked  the 
reporter. 

Morton  lost  his  self-control.  He  opened  the  basement 
door. 

"  Do  you  see  that  door  ? "  he  hissed. 

"  I  do,"  politely  admitted  Mr.  Edward  Haggerty. 

"  Get  out  of  it,  quick  !  Go  to  the  devil  !  "  said  the 
maddened  master  of  the  house. 

Courteously  saluting,  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  the 
reporter  said  :  "  Mr.  Henry  Morton,  of  Morton,  Burnham 
&  Co.,  I'll  make  you  regret  this  day  as  long  as  you  live. 
I  will  publish  the  whole  truth."  And  he  disappeared. 

Morton  groaned  as  he  dragged  himself  up-stairs  and 
threw  himself  in  a  chair. 

"  How  much  does  that  devil  know  ?  I  must  see  Claire, 
and  quiet  her.  Then  Marie  must  also  be  put  on  her 
guard.  Oh  !  if  Overton  would  only  return.  He  could 
help  me  here." 

Morton  sent  for  the  physician,  who  cheerfully  rubbed 
his  hands  as  he  entered. 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,  our  patient  has  had  a  refreshing 
sleep.  I  have  made  your  path  easy.  You  are  to  have  a 
few  words  only.  I  have  explained  this  infamous  canard. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  117 

Mrs.  Morton  will  understand.  To-morrow  we  will  see 
about  removing  her  for  a  quiet  fortnight." 

The  two  men  grasped  hands  warmly,  as  Morton  bowed 
the  doctor  out.  Their  eyes  met.  They  understood  each 
other. 

"  I'll  meet  you  at  three  to-morrow  here,  Doctor." 

"  Very  good  !  " 

The  doctor's  carriage  rolled  away.  "  Thank  God  for 
this  !  "  Morton  ejaculated. 

Softly  entering  his  wife's  room,  the  erring  husband 
pressed  her  hand.  A  few  words  dropped  from  his  lips. 
Her  pale  face  smote  him.  "  I  must  get  her  away  for  a 
rest,"  he  thought. 

"  I  know  all,  Harry,"  she  whispered.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
your  trouble." 

The  nurse  held  up  a  warning  hand  at  the  door. 

"  Now  rest,  my  darling,"  he  whispered.  "  I'll  see  you 
in  the  morning.  I'll  only  go  out  if  absolutely  necessary." 
Morton  stole  out  as  she  turned  her  white  face  to  the 
wall. 

Giving  the  nurse  earnest  injunctions,  the  banker  entered 
his  private  rooms.  Pocketing  a  serviceable  revolver  and 
taking  a  goodly  roll  of  bank-notes  from  his  house  safe, 
he  seized  a  soft  dark  hat  and  a  light  loose  overcoat. 
Calling  the  butler,  he  said  :  "  I  will  be  away  two  or  three 
hours.  Let  no  one  disturb  Mrs.  Morton  save  the  doctor. 
Keep  the  house  absolutely  shut  to  all." 

In  an  hour,  Henry  Morton  entered  the  presence  of 
Marie  Ashton.  The  divinity  was  poring  over  the  "  Uni 
verse  "  article. 

"  That  devilish  scrawl  again  !  "  He  choked  down  his 
rage. 

Forgetting,  for  a  few  happy  moments,  his  troubles, 
-Morton  at  last  returned  to  earth. 

<4  Marie,  I  must  now  arrange  all  for  you."  Her  eager 
eyes  were  fixed  intently  on  him.  "  You  have  read  this 


Il8  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

stuff?"  She  nodded.  He  briefly  told  her  of  all  his 
troubles.  The  Witch  of  Harlem  looked  grave. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  he  concluded.  "  I  wish  Overton 
were  here." 

Marie  Ashton  started  up  with  a  joyful  cry.  "  He  will 
be  back  to-morrow.  I  have  had  a  telegram  from  Chicago. 
He  will  be  here  two  or  three  days,  and  then  go  to  Wash 
ington  for  a  week  or  two." 

il  We  are  saved  !  "  Morton  joyfully  cried.  "  Now,  I 
want  him  to  come  and  see  me  at  the  bank  every  day  he 
is  here,  as  if  on  confidential  business.  You  can  tell  him 
all  you  would  wish.  I  can  fully  explain  to  him.  I  will 
quiet  my  wife" — he  winced — "and  she  goes  to  the 
country  for  several  weeks  in  the  doctor's  care.  I  will 
then  be  free  to  come  to  you,  darling.  If  my  partners  are 
inquisitive,  Overton's  confidential  relations  with  me  will 
protect  me  in  case  of  their  tracing  you.  He  will  protect 
you,  and  I  will,  also,  with  my  life.  I  know  this  reporter 
acted  for  mere  blackmail.  I  don't  fear  him.  I  can  have 
him  quieted. 

"  But,  darling,"  he  added,  "  I  shall  have  a  confidential 
man  watch  over  you  night  and  day.  If  anything  unusual 
happens,  telegraph  me  to  the  Federal  Club,  under  this 
name.  I  have  arranged  it.  You  will  be  instantly  joined 
by  me.  I  shall  tell  Overton  of  this." 

"You  are  so  noble,"  she  murmured,  with  softly  shining 
eyes.  He  drew  the  fair  golden  head  to  his  breast. 

"  You  are  all  the  world  to  me  !  "  he  cried,  as  he  strained 
her  passionately  to  his  bosom.  "  Now,  I  don't  dare  to 
linger.  I  will  go  as  soon  as  it  is  a  little  darker."  A 
thought  darted  like  lightning  through  his  mind.  "  Is 
your  maid  reliable  ? " 

"  Her  mother  was  my  'mammy,'  and  died  in  our  ser 
vice,  South.  She  would  not  leave  us  even  for  freedom.". 

"  Marie  !  "  Morton  cried,  with  a  lover's  eagerness,  "  tell 
me  the  history  of  your  life." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  110 

The  siren  passed  her  cool  hands  over  his  brow.  "  You 
shall  know  all  some  day,"  she  fondly  whispered.  "  Trust 
to  me." 

"  I  will,"  he  cried,  covering  her  white  hands  with  mad 
kisses.  "  You  are  my  heaven,  my  all,  my  very  life  !  " 

"  And  you  love  me  so  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  To  the  death  !  "  he  wildly  answered,  as  he  caught  her 
in  his  arms. 

"  You  must  go  now,"  the  siren  sadly  said,  when  the 
clock  rang  out  its  silvery  bell-strokes. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  ;  "but  listen  !  In  spite  of  fate,  I 
will  come  here  Saturday  afternoon.  I  will  be  supposed 
to  be  at  Boston  till  Monday  morning.  If  you  need  help 
— should  there  be  an  alarm — should  you  need  to  change 
residence,  I  will  be  with  you." 

"  Overton  will  be  away  then." 

In  whispered  colloquy  their  fateful  compact  was  con 
cluded.  Morton,  poor  fool  !  felt  his  heart  bound  as  he 
plunged  deeper  into  the  gulf. 

He  rose.  Her  arms  were  clinging  around  him.  "  Ma 
rie,"  he  murmured,  as  he  laid  the  roll  of  bills  on  the 
table,  "  you  can't  send  to  the  bank.  I  may  not  have  safe 
messengers.  Here  is  ready  money.  It  is  helpful  in 
these  times. 

"  For  my  sake  !  "  he  pleaded,  as  she  sprang  to  the 
table.  "  To  ease  my  mind  of  anxiety." 

The  woman  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands.  "  Be  it  as 
you  will." 

"  Now,  let  Overton  come  to  me  at  once.  I  want  him 
to  come  daily  and  spend  a  half-hour  with  me.  For  ap 
pearances  only  !  " 

Heart  to  heart,  in  fond  embrace,  they  lingered,  till 
Marie's  voice  broke  the  silence  :  "  You  must  go  now,  my 
love — my  own  !  " 

"  Till  Saturday  !  "  he  whispered,  and  passed  the  gates 
of  his  Paradise. 


120  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

As  the  banker  descended,  he  brushed  past  a  woman, 
heavily  veiled,  swiftly  tripping  up  the  stair.  "  Some  in 
mate  of  the  house,"  he  thought,  startled  for  a  moment. 
"  She  could  not  see  me.  I'll  watch  outside,  and  see  if 
any  one  is  lurking  about." 

Pistol  in  pocket,  his  slouch  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes, 
Morton  paced  the  street  till  reassured — until  he  saw  the 
windows  of  his  beloved's  rooms  darkened. 

"  All  safe  !  No  one  on  the  watch  !  "  he  joyfully  de 
cided.  "  Now  for  home  !  " 

Fool  and  blind  !  Poor,  self-deluded  dreamer  !  At  an 
upper  window  the  woman  who  passed  him  on  the  stairs, 
from  her  shaded  casement,  watched  his  tall  form  pacing 
to  and  fro.  As  he  disappeared  at  last,  she  dropped  into 
an  easy-chair. 

"  Mr.  Henry  Morton,  I  think,  between  Ed.  Haggerty 
and  myself,  we  will  give  a  pretty  close  record  of  the 
doings  of  yourself  and  your  song-bird  !  " 

Viola  Pomeroy  sought  her  well-earned  repose,  after 
carefully  entering  copious  notes  in  a  book,  replacing  it 
in  safety  before  retiring.  Mr.  'Ed.  Haggerty 's  woman 
mate  murmured  :  "  I  was  fortunate  to  find  a  vacant  room 
here  on  this  floor.  Just  the  place  for  a  quiet  lady  of 
literary  tastes  !  "  She  smiled  as  she  laid  her  head  on  the 
cushion.  "  We  have  them  now  ! "  she  babbled,  as  her 
tired  eyes  closed. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

OVERTON'S  RETURN.  WARRING  PARTNERS.  RILEY'S 
PLAN.  THE  BOSTON  TRAIN.  ABEL  CRAM'S  DIS 
COVERY. 

HENRY  MORTON'S  fevered  dreams  were  broken  next 
day  by  his  valet's  entrance,  a  sheaf  of  the  New  York 
dailies  in  his  hand. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  121 

The  banker  sprang  from  his  couch.  "  What's  the  re 
port  from  Mrs.  Morton  ?  "  he* eagerly  asked. 

"  The  nurse  says  she  is  in  refreshing  sleep.  Much 
better,  sir,"  answered  the  factotum. 

"  Good  !  "  his  master  cried.  "  And  the  papers."  His 
voice  rang  with  anxiety. 

"  Nothing  in  them,  sir,  about  the  accident." 
"  Very  good  !     Dress  me  quickly  now.     Any  letters  ?  " 
The  valet  handed  him  several.     One  after  another  was 
glanced  at  and  thrown  on  the  dressing  table.     Tearing 
open  the  last,  Morton  gnashed  his  teeth.     It  was  a  short 
note  on  a  telegraph  blank,  typewritten,  the  direction  also 
in  print.     Its  brevity  was  ominous. 

Monday  night. 

I  will  give  you  a  week,  and  one  day's  grace,  to  accept  my  offer.  If 
you  don't  come  to  time,  the  story  of  the  yacht  will  be  sold.  Don't 
be  a  fool  !  This  is  the  last  call.  Address  : 

X.  Y.  Z., 

286  BOWERY. 

Hastily  donning  his  raiment,  Morton  despatched  his 
breakfast. 

"  Have  a  coupe  ready,"  he  ordered.  "  I'll  drive  past 
that  place,"  he  muttered. 

Anxiously  inquiring  for  his  wife,  the  autocratic  nurse 
refused  him  admittance.  Enjoining  absolute  denial  to 
all  visitors,  he  said  sternly  to  the  butler  :  "  I'll  be  here 
at  three.  Admit  only  the  doctor.  Not  another  living 
soul,  no  matter  whom  !  " 

"  To  the  Club — quick  !  "  he  snapped  out.  The  Jehu 
plied  the  whip.  Quickly  entering,  Morton's  letters  were 
handed  him.  "  Telegram,  sir  !  "  the  steward  added. 

One  ray  of  comfort — Marie's  cheering  words  were 
before  him  : 

O returned.     Will  be  down  this  morning. 

Morton's  brow  lightened.  Driving  past  his  florist's, 
he  sent  two  exquisite  baskets  of  flowers — one  to  the 


122  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

darkened  sick-room  of  his  wife,  the  other  to  the  sapphire- 
eyed  witch  whose  golden  chains  were  his  badge  of  dis 
honor. 

"  Now  for  the  Bowery  !  "  In  twenty  minutes  he  satis 
fied  himself  that  No.  286  was  only  a  low  corner  saloon. 

"  Useless  to  watch  this  den,"  he  muttered,  as  he  dashed 
down  to  the  bank.  "  Shall  I  see  my  lawyer  ?  Shall  I 
get  some  detectives?  The  police?"  Morton's  lip 
curled.  "  They  are  all  a  lot  of  sharks.  I  will  take 
Overtoil's  advice.  He  is  a  man  of  the  world." 

Dismissing  his  coupe  when  near  his  office,  Morton 
walked  with  dignity  into  the  bank.  His  unaltered  mien 
impressed  the  underlings.  Abel  Cram's  face  was  in  its 
usual  repose  as  he  greeted  his  chief. 

"  All  smooth  again  !  I  am  safe,  but  only  for  a  few 
weeks.  My  God  !  where  is  Overtoil  ?  "  Abel  cogitated. 
He  feared  detection  every  day. 

Looking  over  the  morning  letters,  Morton  seized  a 
pad  and  dashed  off  a  telegram.  "  Send  this  at  once, 
Cram,"  he  calmly  said.  "  By  the  way,  if  Mr.  Overton 
should  call  this  morning,  show  him  in  to  me  at  once." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  overjoyed  Abel,  who  in  his 
inmost  soul  cried  :  "  Saved,  saved  !  " 

For  even  as  his  chief  leaned  on  Overton,  so  was  the 
man  from  Denver  the  last  hope  of  Abel  Cram,  who  did 
not  particularly  fancy  Sing  Sing  Prison  as  a  residence. 

Morton's  despatch  was  brief.  Cram,  on  general  prin 
ciples,  read  it. 

CAPTAIN  MORRIS, 

Steam-yacht  Fantine, 

Greenpoint,  L.  I. 
Come  instantly  to  the  bank. — MORTON. 

"  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  governor  and  this  captain,"  he 
decided. 

Morton's  eyes  were  glued  ,on  his  letters — all  of  a 
routine  nature,  save  a  jointly  signed  note  from  his  part- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  123 

ners  asking  him  to  meet  them  at  a  down-town  club,  next 
day,  to  talk  of  private  business. 

His  eyes  grew  wolfish.  "  Ah  !  yes.  Going  to  take  up 
Claire's  cause.  Both  disinterested !  The  old  man's 
money,  and  Burnham's  sneaking  calf-love  ! 

"  Well,  he  can  have  her — if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst."  Morton  was  madly  defiant. 

And  yet,  as -Henry  Morton  caught  a  glimpse  of  him 
self  in  the  mirror,  he  dropped  his  eyes.  For  in  his  ears 
was  ringing  an  old-time  sentence  :  "  I,  Henry,  take  thee, 
Claire." 

"  Damn  it  all  !  I  believe  I  am  going  mad."  For  he, 
with  insane  quick  jealousy,  did  not  at  heart  wish  Ralph 
Burnham  to  supplant  him,  even  with  the  woman  hje  had 
deluded  and  betrayed. 

He  struck  the  bell.     Cram  appeared. 

"  Mr.  Burnham  in  yet  ? "  he  asked,  in  his  casual  tone. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir — very  early.  Came  in  with  Mr.  Max 
well  and  got  his  mail.  He'll  be  back  at  three  o'clock." 

"  All  right,  Cram  !  I'll  leave  him  a  note.  Mr.  Wise 
here  yet  ? "  a  timorous  shaking  in  his  voice. 

"  No,  sir,"  Cram  answered,  as  he  closed  the  door. 

"  I'll  face  them  to-morrow,"  mused  Morton.  "  I've  got 
leeway  now.  I  can  square  all  with  Overton.  By  Jove  ! 
if  I  am  cornered,  he  can  swear  he  was  to  be  of  the 
party  and  got  left.  Sickness,  or  some  fool  excuse  !  I'll 
watch  the  whole  lot.  But  this  blackmailer  !  If  I  could 
trap  him."  Morton's  face  looked  like  murder. 

He  knew  not  that  Mr.  Ed.  Haggerty  was  resolved  to 
have  no  more  private  interviews.  He  followed  the  use 
ful  old  maxim  :  Qui  facit  per  alium  facit per  se. 

In  perfect  calmness,  Morton  attended  to  his  business 
routine.  Would  Overton  never  come?  At  11.15  Mr. 
Abel  Cram  softly  entered.  "  Mr.  Overton's  in  the  bank — 
making  some  deposits.  Shall  I  show  him  in,  sir?" 

Morton  nodded  genially.    His  smile  would  have  flitted 


124  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

away  had  he  known  that  Overtoil's  deposit  was  his  own 
thousand  dollars,  left  with  Marie  Ashton,  and  a  few  stray 
hundreds  picked  up  at  poker  around  the  hotels  and  racing 
pool-rooms. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  banker,  rising,  when 
Thomas  Overton  entered  the  room.  Overton's  parade 
costume  was  a  cross  between  a  swell  Episcopalian  rector 
and  a  patrimonial  millionnaire.  Richness  and  sobriety 
judiciously  mingled  !  Overton's  manner  was  that  of  a 
man  without  a  care  or  a  worry.  His  admirable  digestion 
and  automatic  conscience  stood  him  as  towers  of  strength 
on  show  days  like  this,  or  battle  nights  with  the  painted 
pictures !  Classic  poker  will  prepare  a  man  for  any 
turns  of  fortune's  wheel. 

Grasping  the  financier's  hand,  Overton  carefully  selected 
a  Henry  Clay  from  Morton's  best  box.  For  the  banker's 
cigars  and  manners  were  shaded  to  suit  his  varying  inter 
views. 

"  Back  again,  thank  God  !  I'm  tired  of  the  West. 
I'll  settle  here,  I  think,"  Overton  said,  as  he  threw  his 
match  away.  "  But  you  are  busy  ?  I  fear  I  interrupt," 
he  apologized,  replacing  his  bank-book  as  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  no  !  It's  an  off  day,"  Morton  rejoined.  "  I 
want  to  see  you  myself,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"  Then  let's  go  over  to  the  Insurance  Club,  and  get  a 
lobster  and  a  glass  of  wine,"  Overton  said. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Morton.  As  the  gentlemen  passed 
out  of  the  bank,  Morton  murmured  to  Cram  :  "  Back  at 
one  !  Send  for  me  to  Insurance  Club." 

Cram  bowed  over  the  book  on  which  he  was  entering 
some  thieving  misstatements  to  cover  the  Salvator-Tenny 
episode. 

Overton's  eyes  met  Abel's.  The  clerk  never  blenched. 
He  was  on  duty  ! 

"  Capable  man  !  "  said  Overton,  as  they  threaded  the 
angular  exits. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  125 

"  Invaluable  !  "  Morton  answered.  "  Our  mainstay  ! 
Perfect  habits — great  ability — trusted  employee." 

"  Ah  !  a  treasure.  Such  men  are  rare,"  disjointedly 
replied  the,  gambler,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

At  the  door,  Seth  Wise — red  of  face,  fiery  of  eye — 
seized  Morton  by  the  arm  :  "You're  going  out  ?  I  want 
to  speak  a  moment  to  you."  His  manner  was  excited. 

"  Pardon  !  "  Morton  rejoined,  with  sang-froid.  "  Mr. 
Wise — Mr.  Overton.  One  of  our  best,  new  customers  !  " 
he  uttered,  in  a  stage  whisper,  meant  to  reach  Tom's  ear. 
"Very  active  account!"  Seth  Wise's  face  mollified. 
"  Excuse  me  a  moment,  Mr.  Overton  !  "  Thomas  lifted 
his  hat  and  nursed  his  regalia.  An  hour  with  Marie  had 
enabled  him  to  mentally  photograph  the  whole  of  these 
shifting  scenes. 

In  Burnham's  room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  Seth 
Wise  said,  "  Why  am  I  denied  access  to  your  wife,  sir  ? " 
in  a  fierce  tone. 

"  Simply  because  she's  sick  and  nervous,"  Morton  re 
plied.  "  Doctor  Atkinson  won't  even  let  me  see  her  but 
once  a  day.  She's  going  out  of  town  for  two  or  three 
weeks." 

"  You  should  have  told  me,"  the  old  man  testily  re 
plied. 

"  How  could  I  tell  you,  if  I  didn't  see  you  ?  "  Morton 
sensibly  answered.  "  I've  been  fretted  enough.  Will 
you  wait  till  I  return  ?  I'm  going  to  lunch  with  Overton. 
He's  a  strong  man." 

u  All  right  !  "  growled  Wise,  as  he  entered  his  own 
room.  "  Where's  Burnham  ?  " 

"  Away  on  some  of  his  d d  trifling  !  "  Morton  ener 
getically  replied,  as  he  strode  out. 

"  Have  I  done  Harry  an  injustice  ? "  poor  bothered 
old  Seth  mused,  as  he  mopped  his  burning  face.  "  Well, 
everything  for  Claire  !  I'll  see  her  soon.  I'll  probe 
this." 


126  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

In  a  private  room  of  the  Insurance  Club,  Morton  and 
Overton  discoursed  at  length,  after  the  lobster  and  wine 
was  discussed.  Morton  relieved  his  heart  of  the  whole 
story,  as  suited  to  his  views. 

Overton  leaned  back  and  closed  his  eyes,  from  time  to 
time  blowing  great  smoke-rings  in  the  air.  Ordering  a 
fresh  bottle  of  wine>  he  said,  as  the  steward  retired  : 
"  Now,  Mr.  Morton,  I  wish  to  thank  you  for  your  chival- 
ric  conduct  to  Mrs.  Ashton.  She  has  told  me  all.  I 
have  to  go  to  Washington  in  a  couple  of  days.  I  hope 
this  little  scandal  and  tiff  with  your  partners  will  soon 
blow  over.  I'll  put  a  safe  watch  over  my  ward.  It 
would  be  unjust  to  you,  if  she  would  move  in  face  of 
these  rumors.  I  shall  remain  in  New  York  permanently. 
I'll  back  you  in  this.  She  must  stay  here  for  a  time." 
Morton's  eyes  shone  in  joy. 

Overton  continued  :  "  Don't  make  a  single  move. 
Use  no  outside  agencies.  Notice  no  blackmail.  Let 
your  lawyers  alone.  Call  and  see  Mrs.  Ashton  and  re 
assure  her,  while  I'm  away  at  Washington." 

And  the  two  newly  bound  friends  arranged  private 
communication  at  the  Club.  "  I'll  come  in  and  see  you 
to-morrow  and  next  day.  If  pushed  to  the  wall,  you  can 
use  me  to  cover  this  unfortunate  dilemma  arising  from 
your  hospitality.  But,"  he  added,  "  don't  let  Burnham 
ever  get  on  Mrs.  Ashton's  track.  He  would  be  very  intrac 
table,  and  prejudice  your  wife's  interests  and  your  own 
with  Wise.  You  have  been  very  helpful  to  Mrs.  Ashton 
and  myself  in  your  judicious  advice  and  attentions." 

At  the  bank  door  they  separated.  Morton  passed 
Abel  with  a  glance  of  inquiry.  "  Captain  Morris  in  wait 
ing-room,  sir." 

"  Send  him  in,"  sharply  answered  the  banker.  "  Sit 
down,  Morris  !  "  kindly  began  Morton.  The  sailor  was 
ill  at  ease. 

"I  hardly  know   what  to  say,  sir — I'm  that  worried 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  127 

with  keeping  the  men  together.  The  boat's  all  right — 
she'll  come  out  beautiful." 

"  Devil  take  the  boat  !  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  her," 
Morton  roared.  "  What's  the  matter  now  ?  Can't  you 
control  your  men  ?  " 

Morris'  honest  face  flushed.  "  I  don't  want  to  bother 
you,  sir,  but  the  men  are  followed  up  and  devilled  ! 
There's  people  hanging  round  for  no  good.  Here's 
Mr.  Burnham  asking  me  if  I  am  married  " — (Morton 
bounded  from  his  chair) — "  and  he  had  a  young  gentle 
man  with  him." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  Morton  almost  screamed. 

"  I  had  to  tell  him  the  truth,"  the  sailor  replied  simply. 
"  And  one  or  two  of  the  men  drink  a  bit,  sir,  an'  these 
other  chaps  have  got  a  description  of  the  lady  who  was 
on  board  from  the  waiters,  and  I  can't  get  to  my  work 
for  this  devilment." 

"  Discharge  the  whole  crew,"  Morton  snorted.  u  No  ! 
hold  !  when  will  your  repairs  be  done  ? " 

"  In  four  days,  sir,  but  she  won't  be  fit  for  you  yet." 

"  Send  your  men  up  to  New  London,  by  train  to-night. 
Put  your  best  man  in  charge  to  keep  them  together. 
Let  them  all  wait  orders  there." 

"  The  engineer's  the  man  to  hold  them  down,"  Morris 
remarked. 

"  Good  !  Then  take  an  engineer  and  a  couple  of  men 
from  the  ship-works,  and  get  up  there  when  the  boat's 
done  at  once.  Telegraph  me  from  there  your  plan. 
No  foolishness,  now  !  Here's  a  check  !  Telegraph 
when  you  want  more.  Don't  leave  them  a  minute  till 
you  start.  Don't  come  back  here.  I  can  trust  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  honest  sailor,  and  he  was  off  with 
a  handful  of  cigars. 

"  So  !  Mr.  Ralph  Burnham — you,  too,  are  playing  the 
spy  and  cur  !  It  was  Maxwell,  with  you."  Morton  felt 
for  his  revolver.  "  I  would  like  to  kill  him.  But  I  must 


128  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

be  off  to  Claire."  Decorously  leaving  the  bank,  he  had 
a  pleasant  parting  word  with  Seth  Wise.  "  I'll  meet  you 
to-morrow  and  explain  all."  Wise  grasped  his  hand. 
"  You  can  go  out  and  see  Claire  yourself.  I  am  going 
to  send  her  off." 

While  Morton  hastened  to  his  wife,  Thomas  Overtoil 
and  Marie  Ashton  were  softly  laughing  over  their  wine, 
in  her  boudoir,  at  the  antics  of  the  Wall  Street  rat  in  a 
Harlem  trap. 

"  Take  it  easy,  Kate,"  the  gambler  said.  "He'll  tie 
himself  up  so  tight,  we  don't  need  to  make  the  knot. 
It's  a  true  love-knot  " — Overton  sneered,  as  he  drained  a 
cognac  before  keeping  his  tryst  with  the  anxious  Abel, 
who  waited  for  him  at  the  pool-room. 

As  Overton  was  leaving,  a  telegram  was  handed  to 
Marie  : 

Will  be  up  at  eight  to-night. 

Overton  merrily  laughed.  "  You  won't  be  lonely  !  " 
as  he  closed  the  door,  pointing  with  a  smile  to  the  costly 
flowers. 

Morton  had  time  to  think  of  the  Harlem  goddess, 
thus,  before  he  met  the  suave  Dr.  Atkinson  at  his  own 
doors. 

"  All  well,  sir  !  Perfectly  able  to  take  the  train.  I 
have  found  the  very  place.  It  is  under  control  of  a 
colleague.  The  maid  has  packed  all  necessaries.  I'll 
send  the  nurse,  too."  The  medico  was  politely  self- 
important. 

Morton's  heart  beat  easier.  "  Doctor,  I'll  send  my 
valet  also.  He's  a  very  useful  man." 

"  Very  good,  very  good,"  the  physician  replied.  "  Now, 
go  up  and  cheer  her  a  bit.  Tell  her  you'll  run  down  and 
see  her  once  or  twice  a  week.  Send  a  family  friend  or 
two  down  also." 

There  was  a  world  of  suggestion  in  Atkinson's  smooth 
face.  Morton  knew  he  would  find  all  this  extra  interest 


DELILAH    OF     HARLEM. 


I29 


in  the  bill.  N'importe  !  He  was  happy.  Claire  out  of 
the  way — Wise  placated — Overtoil  at  his  back — and 
Marie  Ashton  to  remain  near  him.  Oh,  for  the  blessed 
coming  Saturday  noon  ! 

With  tender  solicitude,  he  joined  his  wife.  Eagerly 
assisting,  the  untiring  Morton  was  not  at  rest  until  the 
whole  party  rolled  out  of  the  Forty-second  Street  Depot, 
under  escort  of  the  physician. 

Bending  over  his  wife,  who  was  silent  and  sadly 
affectionate,  he  whispered  :  "I'll  send  a  telegram  twice 
a  day,  and  Uncle  Wise  will  be  down  to-morrow  after 
noon.  I  will  be  down  before  Saturday,  for  I  have  to  go 
to  Boston  then." 

"  Harry,"  the  dark-eyed  wife  whispered  from  her 
pillows,  "can't  you  spend  Sunday  with  me  ?" 

Morton  calmly  lied  as  he  said  :  "  Business,  my  own, 
prevents,  but  I  will  come  next  Tuesday.  I'll  write  to 
you  every  day." 

As  the  train  rolled  out,  he  flattered  himself  his  valet 
understood  the  private  directions.  The  sly  servant, 
impassive  in  his  face,  was  figuring  on  an  increase  of 
wages,  as  the  train  tore  through  the  tunnel. 

After  a  careful  study  of  the  "  Boston  trains  for  Satur 
day,  Sunday,  and  Monday,"  Morton  sauntered  out  of 
the  depot.  Do  what  he  would,  a  pair  of  gentle  dark 
eyes  haunted  him.  He  heard  a  pleading  voice  saying  : 
"  Can't  you  spend  Sunday  with  me,  Harry  ?  "  He  shiv 
ered  slightly.  "  I've  caught  a  cold.  I  think  I'll  try  a 
cocktail  at  the  Grand  Central  " — and  as  he  raised  his 
glass  before  the  bar,  a  dream  of  a  fair-faced  witch,  with 
golden  hair,  her  blue  eyes  shining,  her  white  arms  opened 
to  him,  chased  away  the  gentle  wraith  of  Claire,  his  own 
unloved  wife. 

The  silver  bell  on  Marie's  mantel  was  chiming  eight 
when   Morton,  swiftly  striding  across  the  tufted  floor, 
was  clasped  in  the  embrace  of  the  waiting  witch. 
9 


130  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Elysium — frenzy — maddening  anticipated  joys — all 
would  have  been  naught  to  him,  could  he  have  seen 
watchful  Viola  Pomeroy  glide  up  the  staircase  after  him, 
to  the  room  above,  where  Ed.  Haggerty  and  herself  were 
completing  a  veracious  chronicle,  "  for  private  circula 
tion,"  entitled  "  The  Moonlight  Cruise  of  the  Yacht 
Fantine." 

Overton  and  Abel,  in  calm  discourse,  at  the  pool-room, 
in  an  upper  chamber  were  plotting  to  capture  the  racing 
odds,  and  Abel,  with  flushed  face,  detailed  to  Overton 
the  upheaval  in  the  staid  firm  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co. 

As  Morton  stealthily  fled  away  to  his  lonely  home, 
Overton,  in  sage  council  with  Riley,  at  his  hotel,  com 
muned  with  that  veteran  intrigant  as  to  the  best  means 
of  leaving  New  York,  silently  and  safely — as  well  as 
suddenly — for  a  haven  of  foreign  rest. 

Mr.  Riley  was  ignorant  of  the  copied  combination  in 
Overton's  possession.  The  scheme  to  get  at  the  bank 
funds  was  as  yet  a  vague  one.  The  two  villains  con 
sulted  with  each  other  for  hours. 

Morton's  arrival  at  the  bank  next  day  was  with  un 
ruffled  brow.  He  had  appointed  eleven  as  the  hour  for 
the  interview  by  his  note  in  reply.  At  a  quarter  of 
eleven,  Seth  Wise  entered,  pleasantly  greeting  him.  Abel 
Cram  presented  a  note  saying  Burnham  was  at  the  Club. 
In  ten  minutes  the  three  partners  were  face  to  face. 
The  perfect  privacy  of  the  room  was  undoubted.  Re 
freshments  were  ordered,  as  a  matter  of  form. 

"I  can't  understand  him,"  Morton  ruminated,  for 
Ralph  Burnham  was  taciturn  and  merely  bowed. 

"  Well,  gentlemen  !  "  Morton  calmly  said,  lighting  a 
cigar,  "  I  am  ready.  What  is  the  business  ?" 

Seth  Wise  fidgeted  and  looked  at  Burnham,  who  coldly 
began. 

"The  business  is  this.  I  am  not  satisfied  with  the 
affair  of  last  week.  I  am  not  willing  to  be  made  ridic- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  13! 

ulous.  On  my  own  behalf — on  behalf  of  my  cousin — 1 
want  an  honest  explanation  of  that  matter,  or  I  want  to 
leave  the  firm." 

Morton  flushed.  "  Had  you  not  better  let  Mr.  Wise 
guard  your  cousin's  interests  ?  She  was  his  ward  and  is 
my  wife.  If  you  talk  to  me,  sir,  talk  of  the  firm's 
matters,  or  I  will  cut  this,  short."  The  husband's  eyes 
were  fierce.  Old  Seth  Wise  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  embarrassment.  It  was,  then,  war. 

"  I'll  cut  it  short,"  Burnham  said.  "  Morton,  you  are 
going  to  the  devil  !  You  deceived  your  wife  about  that 
Philadelphia  trip.  You  drove  her  half-mad  with  your 
escapade.  You  deceived  me  about  the  woman  who  was 
with  you."  Old  Seth  opened  his  eyes  in  wonder. 

"What's  thife  ?  "  he  sternly  said,  laying  his  hand  on 
Morton's  arm.  "  You  told  me,  sir,  it  was  the  captain's 
wife." 

"  The  captain  has  no  wife,"  Burnham  firmly  said.  "At 
least,  he  told  me  so  to-day  himself." 

"  Then  you  are  a  spy  and  a  sneak  !  "  Morton  roared, 
clutching  at  Burnham. 

"  And  you  are  a  liar  and  wife  deceiver !  "  Burnham 
shouted,  backing  away.  "  Don't  you  move  a  step.  If 
you  touch  me,  you're  a  dead  man." 

Seth  Wise  stepped  between.  "  Stop  this  !  By  God  ! 
I  will  have  it  stopped.  I'll  have  the  police." 

The  two  young  men  glared  at  each  other  from 
opposite  ends  of  the  room. 

"Answer  me,"  Wise  demanded  of  Morton,  "who  was 
the  lady  on  the  yacht  ?  " 

'•It's  a  matter  of  honor.  I  can't  answer,"  sullenly 
faltered  Morton. 

"  Do  you  know?"  Wise  wolfishly  asked  Burnham. 

"  I  only  know  she  was  a  beautiful  woman,  and  lives  on 
the  West  Side  ;  but  I  will  know  all,  and  you  shall,  too," 
Burnham  defiantly  replied.  "  I  also  want  to  leave  the 


132  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

firm.  Mr.  Wise,  you  can  do  as  you  wish.  I  am  done. 
I  know  where  such  criminal  folly  leads  men  to."  Burn- 
ham  glared  fiercely. 

Old  Seth  Wise  turned  to  Morton,  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  "  Henry,  will  you  explain  so  that  I  can  see  your 
wife  as  an  honest  man  to-morrow  ?  Give  us  any  reason 
able  explanation."  His  voice  was  almost  pleading. 

"  I  refuse  to  discuss  my  private  affairs  with  any  one.  I 
have  no  answer.  As  for  the  firm,  do  what  you  wish," 
Morton  coldly  said.  "  I  shall  leave  the  room.  I  have 
heard  enough." 

Seth  Wise  arose  gravely  from  the  chair  he  had  occupied. 
"  Henry  Morton,  I  will  see  you  alone,  at  ten  o'clock  to 
morrow.  If  you  cannot  clear  this  up,  I  will  give  you  the 
formal  three  months'  notice,  and  withdraw  my  money 
from  the  firm." 

"  I'll  take  the  notice  now,"  cried  Morton,  thoroughly 
enraged. 

"Wait,  young  man  !  "  Seth  Wise  sternly  said,  and  the 
three  separated  without  a  word. 

"  A  nice  little  sociable  time  !  "  sneered  the  steward  as 
the  three  partners  walked  separately  away.  Even  his 
liberal  douceur  grated  on  the  servant's  nerves.  <4  A  good 
old  family  row,  I  suppose  !  " 

Morton  paced  his  rooms  like  a  tiger  half  the  night. 
Promptly  at  the  bank,  next  day,  he  coldly  received  the 
notice,  and  returned  his  formal  consent  to  the  dissolu 
tion  of  the  firm.  "I  only  ask,"  he  briefly  said,  "that  the 
liquidation  begin  December  ist,  as  your  funds,  sir,"  said 
he,  bowing  to  Seth  Wise,  "  will  be  then  ready.  You,  I 
believe,  have  no  capital,"  he  coldly  said  to  Burnham, 
who  moved  not  a  muscle.  "  I  shall  be  at  my  daily  duties, 
as  usual.  I  expect  you  now  to  do  the  same.  After 
December  ist  we  will  all  sign  in  liquidation,  and  have  the 
accounts  experted.  You  wish  this  kept  secret  for  the 
present  ?  I  am  sure  I  do."  Both  bowed.  "  That  is  all 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  133 

I  have  to  say,"  said  the  manager.  "  Mr.  Wise,  there  is 
my  wife's  address.  You  are  free  to  go  and  see  her.  Mr. 
Burnham,  I  request  you  will  never  enter  my  house  again." 

Burnham  never  moved.  It  was  now  war  to  the  knife. 
Overton  and  Riley  were  meanwhile  busied  at  the  ferry- 
side,  in  a  snug  sanctum,  also  engaged  with  the  affairs  of 
the  bank. 

"  I  have  it  all  worked  out  now,  Tom,"  said  Riley. 
"I'll  take  you  to  a  Spanish  West  India  trader — a  close 
friend  of  mine — who'll  make  you  safe  for  a  century. 
We're  in  a  lot  of  secret  business  together.  Cigars — 
brandy.— foreign  goods — oh  !  he's  all  dead  safe  and  solid. 
Bless  yer  sowl !  he's  a  Fifth  Avenue  man.  An'  he  has 
too  much  to  lose  !  Besides,  he's  in  me  own  power," 
Riley  whispered. 

"  What  is  he — a  trader  ?"  Overton  repeated. 

"  Yes  ;  a  smuggler,  and  a  secret  devil  !  He's  a  sharp 
one,"  Riley  said.  "  He's  a  Consul  for  one  of  thim  divils 
of  leetle  Republics  down  there.  He  can  make  papers 
all  right  for  the  boats,  an'  he's  dead  solid  with  the  Cus 
tom  House  here.  Why,  he's  a  clubman.  Ah  !  he's  an 
out-and-out  highflyer,  an'  he's  a  deucedly  smooth  divil  — 
an'  rich — that  he  is  !  " 

"  Why,  he  plays  a  cool  game,"  Overton  admiringly 
answered. 

"  I  should  say  he  did  !  "  Riley  cried,  taking  a  pull  at 
his  cold  whiskey  punch.  Lowering  his  voice,  he  whis 
pered  :  "  1  get  nearly  all  my  good  stock  through  him— 
brandy,  Jamaica  rum,  an'  Havanas  !  Ye  see,  my  boy, 
we've  two  or  three  flying  schooners  an'  brigs,  always 
moving.  Oliviera  can  always  load  firearms,  cartridges, 
and  all  paying  goods  on  the  sly  here.  He  makes  the 
papers.  We  have  four  or  five  old  buccaneer  island  har 
bors  down  there  in  the  Spanish  main.  He  is  in  with 
them  Dago  officials  and  nigger  generals.  We  run  the 
stuff  into  them  little  Republics  and  save  all  the  duties. 


134  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Comin'  back,  we  can  take  a  dash  over  to  the  Florida 
coast,  an'  land  a  good  load  of  Havanas.  We're  in  with 
all  thim  there  beachcombers  an'  wreckers,  an'  all  those 
smart  divils  of  the  Spanish  main.  Oh  !  they  are  the 
wicked  ones  !  " 

"  Riley,  would  it  be  safe  for  me  to  run  down  there  ? 
I'll  have  a  nice  woman  with  me,"  Overton  slowly  said. 

"  Ah  !  there's  a  ladye  in  this  case,  thin  ? "  Riley 
grinned. 

"  Yes,  and  a  devilish  handsome  one,  too  !  "  Tom  re 
plied,  with  a  twirl  at  his  tigerish  mustache. 

'•  Ye're  the  divil's  own  boy,  I'll  be  bound,"  chuckled 
the  Boniface,  as  he  filled  Overton's  glass  and  punched 
his  ribs  playfully.  "  Now,  let  me  tell  you — we'll  give  ye 
a  flyer,  with  a  good  separate  cabin  for  yere  canary-bird. 
We've  one  will  beat  the  world.  Ofttimes  we've  run  in 
an'  out  these  rivolutionists  an'  Cuban  generals,  an'  all 
that.  We'll  load  her  with  a  good  cargo,  have  her  clear 
ance,  and  let  her  lie  in  the  Lower  Bay  a  week  or  so. 
We'll  take  out  papers  for  trading  in  the  West  Indies. 
Ye  can  send  all  your  loose  stuff  jto  me,  and  put  your  lady 
frind  aboard  safe  an'  quiet.  When  ye  make  yere  big 
stroke,  I'll  shove  ye  on  board  in  Tim  Dolan's  tug  the 
Faugh  a  Ballagh.  Slip  out  quietly,  and  in  the  morning 
— ye're  a  hundred  miles  from  Sandy  Hook.  Down  ye 
run  to  the  islands — we'll  treat  ye  there  like  a  lord — and 
ye  can  get  over  to  Spain,  or  Brazil,  or  Honduras,  or  divil 
knows  where  from  there.  Yere  lady  will  live  like  a  prin 
cess.  I've  been  down  myself." 

"  You  !  "  Overton  said,  in  astonishment. 

"  D'ye  remember  Sharkey  the  murderer,  that  walked 
out  of  the  Tombs  in  daylight  ?  I  helped  run  him  out— 
an'  that's  the  scheme  we  worked.  'Twas  broad  daylight, 
too,"  said  Riley,  with  pride. 

"  Riley,  you're  a  genius  !  "  Tom  cried. 

"  Ye  see,"  the  cunning  Irishman  proudly  said,  "  we're 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  135 

all  simple  people  here,  we  city  front  lads.  But  we're 
dead  solid  with  Tammany,  an'  the  police,  an'  the  cus 
toms.  If  yere  boat  was  overhauled,  we  could  hide  you 
an'  the  lady.  We've  places  fixed  for  them  rivolutionists. 
As  for  you,  anyway — ye  old  villain — a  sou'wester,  a  good 
shave,  and  a  sailor's  outfit  would  pass  the  Inspector 
himself.  Now,  make  yere  game,  an'  I'll  do  ye  right !  " 

Overtoil  shook  hands  and  strolled  up  to  the  pool 
rooms. 

"  Cram,  what  was  up  to-day  ?  I  wanted  to  see  Mor 
ton,"  Tom  said,  when  the  two  friends  were  in  their 
haunt.  "  He  sent  word  out  to  excuse  me  till  to-morrow. 
I  have  to  go  on  to  Washington  for  a  few  days." 

"  There's  been  a  big  all-round  row  in  the  firm,"  Abel 
replied  earnestly.  "  This  foolishness  of  Morton's  about 
that  yacht  scandal  has  driven  old  Wise  and  Burnham 
crazy.  They've  all  been  wrangling,  and  they  hardly 
speak." 

tf  Ah  !     Trouble  ahead  !  "  the  gambler  joyfully  cried. 

"  Yes,"  Cram  retorted,  "  and  if  anything  should  hap 
pen,  I  would  go  to  the  wall,  if  they  experted  my  books. 
You  are  my  only  help  now,  Overton  !  " 

"  How  much  are  you  behind  ?  "  Overton  asked,  with  an 
affectation  of  carelessness. 

"  Five  thousand  and  more,"  Abel  groaned. 

"  Well,  you  had  better  get  at  a  little  more  and  get  out," 
the  gambler  coldly  said. 

Abel's  head  dropped  in  his  hands.  "  I  have  no  friends, 
and  no  money.  I  can't  get  away."  He  sobbed  like  a 
child.  Cram  was  a  coward  at  heart. 

"  Don't  be  a  d d  fool  !  "  Tom  replied.  "  No  snivel 
ling  !  Look  here  !  If  you'll  strike  hands  with  me,  I'll 
protect  you  till  you  can  get  away  with  a  good  stake,  and 
get  you  off,  too.  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me.  Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  the  clerk  nervously  asked. 


136  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Never  mind  !  Trust  in  me.  I'll  tell  you  soon 
enough.  You  don't  want  to  go  away  empty-handed. 
Those  fellows  have  too  much  money." 

"  Then  it's  a  go  !  "  Cram  cried. 

"  Go,  it  is  !  "  said  Tom.  "  Now,  give  Morton  this  note 
quietly  to-morrow.  I  want  him  to  meet  me  at  the  Insur 
ance  Club.  I  don't  want  to  run  against  those  other  fel 
lows,  if  they're  all  fighting." 

The  sworn  allies  separated,  both  well  pleased. 

Morton,  his  eyes  steeled  to  indifference,  was  in  a  happy 
mood  next  day,  when  he  received  his  note.  For  in  the  pas 
sionate  blandishments  of  Marie  Ashton  he  had  buried,  at 
night,  all  the  cares  of  an  unhappy  day.  Having  dropped 
into  his  double  life,  he  wore  the  golden  yoke  lightly,  and 
could  logically  demonstrate  to  his  own  heart  that,  if  all 
turned  against  him,  Marie  Ashton  would  be  worth  wife 
and  friends  to  him.  The  subtle  philter  of  unholy  love 
had  poisoned  every  vein. 

"  I've  got  money  enough.  I  suppose  old  Wise  will 
always  coddle  Claire."  He  forgot  that  he  had  himself 
drifted  into  the  power  of  others.  In  Marie's  twining 
arms  he  had  told  her  all  the  troubles  of  the  day.  She 
was  safe  and  unmolested — and  there  were  no  further 
newspaper  allusions.  One  blessing  ! 

A  telegram  from  his  wife  arrived  with  good  news.  A 
despatch  from  Morris  announced  that  the  crew  were  all 
gone,  and  the  yacht  would  leave  next  day.  "  Good  ! 
Now  for  Overton  !  I  suppose  old  Seth  went  out  last 
night  to  see  Claire.  I  don't  believe  he  would  blow.  But 
as  for  that  sneak  Burnham,  I'll  watch  him." 

And  Morton,  self-deluded,  repaired  to  the  Club,  and 
in  a  long  conference  unfolded  the  whole  case  to  his 
Mentor. 

Overton  said  :  "  I  presume  you  will  continue  the  bank 
ing  business  alone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !     I'll  gather  up  Wise's  reserved  capital, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLF.M.  I}/ 

and  pay  him  clear  out  by  December  ist.  The  other  man 
drops  out  then.  There  will  be  no  shock,  as  our  deposi 
tors  will  not  withdraw  their  funds.  I  will  realize  on  my 
surplus  securities  and  quietly  settle  with  these  men,  let 
ting  them  go  out.  But,  should  there  be  any  more  pub 
licity  about  this  yacht  accident,  you  must  call  on  my  wife 
with  me,  and  you  can  swear  you  were  aboard  the  Fantine. 
I  have  refused  to  explain  to  any  one  but  her.  She's 
very  reasonable.  I  can  tell  her  our  business  was  con 
fidential." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  Morton  !  Now,  I  don't  want  to 
meet  these  men.  I'm  off  to  Washington  for  a  few  days. 
Here's  my  address  there.  Use  the  wire  if  you  want  me. 
I'll  send  a  note  or  despatch  to  you  marked  '  private,'  if  I 
wish  to  meet  you  here  at  the  Club  when  I  come  back. " 

The  allies  clasped  hands.  Overtoil  casually  remarked: 
"  I  am  getting  my  Western  matters  well  in  hand.  By  the 
way,  don't  let  this  nonsense  keep  you  from  looking  in  on 
Mrs.  Ashton.  You  know  I  depend  on  you  alone,  when 
I'm  gone." 

"  Certainly  !  "  cried  the  delighted  banker.  "I'll  do  so. 
1  must  be  off."  His  heart  bounded  in  happiness.  Over- 
ton  was  blind.  Yes,  blind  as  the  deadly  summer  rattle 
snake. 

As  Morton  departed,  he  said  to  himself,  with  glee  : 
"  I'll  see  Claire  to-morrow.  I  can  run  out  in  the  after 
noon.  Then,  Saturday,  I'll  work  the  'Boston  train' 
dodge."  His  eyes  glazed  in  a  luscious  day-dream.  To 
linger  at  Marie  Ashton's  side  for  two  whole  days — ah  ! 
Paradise.  Heaven  on  earth  was  in  his  grasp. 

Overton,  finishing  the  bottle  of  Pommery,  mused  in  the 
private  room  :  "  I  think  I  let  him  have  his  rope.  Marie 
will  keep  him  blind.  I  have  this  cowardly  Abel  in  my 
power,  ~nd  I'll  gather  in  all  that  surplus  capital  for  old 
Wise,  when  ready.  I'll  make  Cram  watch  it." 

Running  up  in  great  good-humor  to  his  lovely  ward 


138  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

for  an  hour's  chat,  he  found  her  admiring  a  pair  of  superb 
diamond  bangles,  fit  for  a  bright  particular  star  of  the 
Four  Hundred. 

"  Where  did  you  get  those,  Kate  ?  "  he  genially  asked. 

"  From  a  friend,  sir,"  the  Witch  mockingly  replied,  as 
she  flashed  them  before  his  eyes. 

tl  Keep  him  up  to  this.  It's  a  good  idea,"  the  gambler 
growled.  "  I  never  saw  a  woman  who  had  diamonds 
enough.  You  are  all  the  same.  Now,  you  will  not  see 
me  till  Tuesday.  I  have  some  important  business." 

Marie  smiled  derisively  as  she  said  adieu  at  the  door. 

"  Is  it  poker  ?  " — she  maliciously  teased  him. 

"  Better  than  that,"  he  grinned. 

"  Then  it  must  be  good  !  "  the  siren  laughed. 

"  It  is.     Good  for  you  and  good  for  me  !  " 

Lighting  his  cigar,  he  wandered  away  happy. 

"  Cram,"  said  Morton,  at  the  close  of  business  on  Fri 
day,  "  I'm  going  to  Boston  to-morrow.  I'll  not  be  down 
till  noon,  Monday.  You  can  notify  Mr.  Wise  and  Mr. 
Burnham.  Burnham  will  open  the  vaults."  For  Abel 
was  now  the  chief  medium  of  communication  between 
the  warring  associates.  All  was  quiet,  but  an  undefined 
sense  of  impending  change  hung  over  the  hitherto  pros 
perous  house.  The  anxious  employees  feared  the  future. 
Morton  was  calm,  yet  shaken  in  his  secret  soul, 

Old  Seth  Wise,  returning  from  his  visit  to  Claire,  had 
taken  Morton  aside  and  begged  him  to  retrace  his  steps. 
He  spoke  kindly. 

"  I  have  not  alarmed  Claire.  It  is  not  a  family  break 
up.  I  shall  let  it  make  no  change  with  her.  She  shall 
have  a  solid  fortune  from  me.  But  I  don't  want  to  lose 
you,  my  boy.  I  don't  know  what  cloud  has  come  be 
tween  you  and  Ralph.  You  are  both  young  and  passion 
ate.  Get  out  of  this  false  position.  Tell  me  all.  Rely 
on  me.  Let  me  smooth  all  over." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  139 

"  I  cannot,"  Morton  stubbornly  replied.  "  Burnham's 
insults  would  demand  blood  from  another  man.  I  can't 
get  him  out,  without  dissolving  the  firm.  Now,  you 
know  I  have  seen  Claire.  She  is  better.  She  has  no 
questions  to  ask,"  Morton  earnestly  said. 

"  True,"  said  the  mournful  old  capitalist,  "  she  asks 
no  questions,  but  her  heart  is  sadly  torn.  I'll  leave  you 
now,  my  boy.  Think  this  over."  Poor  old  Seth  turned 
away  with  moist  eyes.  He  grieved  to  see  the  great  firm 
broken  up.  Even  in  his  folly,  Morton  was  touched.  He 
communed  with  his  hopes  and  fears. 

"  I  can't  go  back — I  will  not  give  up  Marie.  She 
is  my  life  and  soul,"  Morton  soliloquized.  "  I'll  square 
the  dear  old  boy  by  and  by.  Marie  will  be  here  all 
winter,  and  next  summer  I  can  get  her  out  in  some  quiet 
nest." 

The  fever  of  love  was  madly  throbbing  in  his  veins. 
In  the  dim  future  he  saw  no  shadows  of  parting  from 
the  bewitching,  lithe-limbed,  white-armed  devil  who  was 
dragging  him  down. 

"  Going  to  Boston  !  Well,  I  think  I'll  have  an  eye  on 
you,  Mr.  Morton.  Bank  closes  at  noon,"  Cram  mur 
mured,  as  he  closed  the  office  door. 

"  I  take  the  one-thirty  train,  Cram,"  Morton  remarked 
— saying  :  "  You  can  telephone  to  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel  for  me,  up  to  that  time.  I'll  look  in  as  I  pass  by." 

Saturday  morning,  at  half-past  eleven,  Morton  cheer 
fully,  with  a  bounding  heart,  left  the  bank.  Whirling  to 
his  house,  he  made  the  usual  preparations  for  travel, 
having  sent  his  now  daily  tribute  of  rare  flowers  to  waken, 
with  their  royal  fragrance,  thoughts  he  could  not  frame 
in  even  a  happy  lover's  eloquence.)  His  toilet  was  rich 
for  travel,  but  it  eminently  suited  his  mood.  Gayly  rat 
tling  up  to  the  station,  he  lingered  at  the  Grand  Central 
for  news.  Nothing  ! 

Passing  into  the  depot,  he  obtained  a  Boston  ticket, 


140  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

and,  as  he  entered   the  parlor  car,  failed  to  note  Abel 
Cram  slouching  into  the  smoker. 

Away  sped  the  train.  Morton's  ardent  heart  was  beat 
ing  with  impatience.  A  couple  of  stations  up  the  road, 
he  quietly  stepped  from  the  train.  Casting  his  eyes 
about,  he  saw  no  one  he  knew.  Still,  a  hundred  yards 
away,  his  back  turned,  Abel  Cram  was  idly  walking  away 
from  him.  Two  or  three  dilapidated  cabs  lingered  near. 
Stepping  into  one,  Morton,  by  a  roundabout  way,  ap 
proached  the  haven  where  the  queen  of  his  wild  love 
awaited  him.  At  a  discreet  distance,  the  sly  clerk  fol 
lowed,  with  careful  directions  to  his  driver. 

As  Morton  dismissed  the  driver,  he  hastened  up  the 
dark  stairway — the  entrance  to  his  Paradise. 

Abel  Cram  had  noted  the  doorway,  and  was  already 
sauntering  to  it.  As  he  passed  it,  with  a  keen  upward 
glance  he  saw  a  dark- eyed,  snappy,  shifty-looking  young' 
woman  passing  out.  Her  eyes  met  his  with  a  peculiar 
glance.  Cram  decided  to  take  a  risk. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  he  said,  raising  his  hat.  "  Did  you 
see  a  gentleman  in  dark  clothes  just  go- up-stairs  ?  He 
had  an  overcoat  and  portmanteau." 

"  What  if  I  did  ?  "  she  said,  queerly  eying  the  clerk, 
and  walking  away  from  the  door. 

"  I  think  he  dropped  something,"  Abel  said.  "  I  wish 
to  return  it."  He  was  keeping  pace  as  she  walked  along. 
Her  eye  was  inviting  :  "  Come  around  the  corner  with 
me."  When  the  corner  was  turned,  she  wheeled  sharply  : 
"You  are  lying  to  me.  You  are  spotting  that  man.  Js 
there  money  in  it  ?  "  Her  eyes  were  greedy.  Cram  held 
out  a  five-dollar  bill. 

She  laughed  mockingly.  "  When  you  show  up  five 
hundred,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  know."  Abel,  without  a 
word,  left  Viola  Pomeroy.  He  was  nonplussed. 

While  Morton,  dallying  in  foolish  security,  plunged 
into  every  wild  extravagance  of  passiorQiis  sultana  alter- 


)>l  I, II, A II    OK    HARLKM.  14! 

nately  exciting  and  chilling  him,  JAbel  Cram,  from  an 
improvised  coign  of  vantage,  watched  the  house  till 
Monday  morning.  Several  times  he  saw  Morton  emerge 
for  a  brief  promenade.  On  Sunday  night,  in  the  moon 
light,  the  banker  swiftly  walked  a  block  away  to  a  wait 
ing  carriage.  "  I'll  bet  she  comes  now  !  "  cried  Abel. 
In  five  minutes,  Marie  Ashton  swept  down  the  stair. 
As  she  glided  to  the  carriage,  Abel  Cram  saw,  for  the 
first  time,  the  golden  hair  and  lovely  face,  the  sculptured 
form  and  queenly  beauty,  of  the  Witch  of  Harlem. 

As  the  carriage  rolled  away,  he  boldly  rang  the  jani 
tor's  bell.  That  functionary  appeared,  and  eyed  him 
keenly.  Cram  was  fairly  shabby. 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see  ?  "  the  janitor  said,  giving 
Abel  a  poor  man's  send  off  in  his  pompous  insolence. 

"  I  want  to  see  the  tall  blonde  lady  who  lives  here — 
the  handsome  lady.  I  had  her  card.  I  have  lost  it.  I 
want  to  show  her  some  pet  dogs.  I  want  to  know  when 
I  can  bring  them." 

"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Ashton— second  floor  flat.  She's  just 
gone  out.  Come  again,  young  man,"  he  grumbled  away 
to  his  pipe  and  mug. 

Cram  lingered  around  till  the  loving  and  happy  couple 
returned.  The  lights  went  out  at  midnight. 

Abel  wandered  homewards,  proudly  muttering  :  "  I've 
got  him  planted  safe,  now !  " 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

HOME      AGAIN.       VIOLA      POMEROY's     SUCCESSFUL     NOVEL. 
FACE  TO  FACE.      MORTON   AT  BAY.       A  FAMILY  CRISIS. 

FOUR  weeks  fled  away.  V  Days  of  alternated  passion 
ate  joys  and  weary  waiting  for  Harry  Morton  !  /  The 
cold  aversion  in  the  firm  continued.  All  the  outlying 


142  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

capital  was  drawn  in  under  joint  direction  of  Wise  and 
Morton,  for  the  approaching  liquidation.  Burnham  held 
quietly  aloof.  Morton  and  Ralph  ceased  to  speak. 

"  Don't  you  fret,"  old  Seth  Wise  privately  said  to 
Burnham.  "  I'll  set  you  up,  Ralph,  in  a  good  brokerage 
office,  and  back  you  with  capital.  Only,  have  no  further 
quarrel  with  Morton.  Make  no  scene  in  the  bank. 
This  is  for  Claire's  sake.  I  can  give  her  money,  but,  as 
she  truly  loves  Morton,  I  cannot  rebuild  the  shattered 
home,  if  we  precipitate  any  family  trouble."  Burnham 
acknowledged  the  justice  of  this,  while  pining  to  see 
Claire — all  the  more,  that  her  house  was  now  forbidden 
him. 

Claire  Morton  was  at  home  again.  Home  again  ! 
But  her  delicate  face  was  shaded  with  a  haunting  sorrow. 
Morton  was  all  courtesy,  even  tender.  He  had  dis 
missed  and  royally  paid  the  suave  Doctor  Atkinson — once 
for  his  professional  skill,  and  again  for  his  silence.  The 
subject  of  the  moonlight  wreck  was  dropped. 

Morton  was  assiduous  in  his  attentions.  Yet  he  could 
not  disguise  wholly  the  reason  of  Ralph  Burnham's 
absence.  Old  Seth  Wise  looked  gravely  mysterious  on 
his  visits.  Morton  was  forced  to  finally  admit  to  his 
wife  the  intended  change.  "  I  have  had  serious  trouble 
with  Burnham,"  he  vaguely  said.  "  I  have  had  enough 
of  him.  I'm  not  tied  to  him." 

"  Harry,"  Claire  cried,  throwing  herself  in  his  arms, 
"tell  me  all.  I  fear  some  dreadful  thing  has  happened. 
Trust  me  !  You  know  how  I  love  you." 

Morton  shivered  in  self-abasement,  yet  almost  roughly 
cast  her  off,  saying  :  "  You  women  are  all  such  fools 
about  business." 

Claire  was  fain  to  be  silent.  Her  only  sorrow  of  this 
passing  time  was  the  regular  weekly  visits  to  Boston, 
the  long  absences  from  Saturday  morning  to  Monday 
night,  for  Morton  went  directly  to  the  bank  from  Har- 


DELILAH    OK    HARLEM.  143 

lem.  He  took  a  local  train  for  Forty-second  Street,  to 
keep  up  his  double  existence,  arriving  as  if  really  from  the 
"Hub." 

Grown  bolder,  stolen  afternoon  visits  during  the  week 
were  gradually  added  to  the  wild  ecstasies  of  his  weekly 
sojourn.  ^Sinking  deeper  into  the  gulf — even  more  madly 
enslaved  by-his  sultana — he  lived  only  in  the  hours  when 
he  was  at  her  feet,  or  encircled  with  the  clinging  white 
arms,  loaded  now  with  his  gems  and  bawbles.  She  was 
bought  with  a  high  price.  ) 

Peace  reigned  in  his  mind  as  to  the  threatened  expos 
ure.  The  yacht,  in  commission,  had  returned,  and  no 
one  lurked  around  crew  or  commander.  No  news  from 
his  enemy,  the  blackmail  reporter  ! 

"  My  decided  bluff  frightened  off  that  scoundrel.  I'll 
never  hear  from  him,"  the  banker  flattered  himself. 
And  yet,  in  the  clear  sky  over  his  head  lurked  the  bolt 
ready  to  shatter  his  last  hopes  in  life. 

Overton  had  returned,  and  discreetly  counselled  his 
friend  the  banker.  Abel — keeping  his  Harlem  discovery 
to  himself — informed  the  gambler  of  the  progress  of  busi 
ness,  and  the  amassing  of  funds  for  the  final  settlement. 

"  What  do  they  do  with  this  great  surplus  ?  "  Overton 
asked. 

"  Oh  !  we  buy  in  United  States  bonds,  on  a  favorable 
turn,  for  account  of  old  Seth  Wise.  When  all  is  liqui 
dated,  I  suppose  he'll  register  them,  and  put  them  in 
some  dark  hole  of  a  safe  deposit.  I  have  an  idea  he 
may  back  Ralph  Burnham  in  a  new  business.  But  the 
bank  will  go  on  the  same.  Morton  has  a  great  name 
as  a  financier." 

Marie  Ashton,  though  loaded  with  Morton's  rich  offer 
ings,  began  to  chafe  under  her  comparative  isolation. 
She  tired  of  the  unending  adulation  of  the  man  whose 
ardent  physical  nature  was  aflame  with  the  passions  she 
inspired.  Action,  travel,  new  faces,  new  lands,  new  loves, 


144  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

new  lovers — even  safety,  peace,  and  distance — she  craved. 
The  Delilah  of  Harlem  was  no  mere  odalisque. 

"  Patience,  mad  fairy  !  "  Overtoil  would  reply  to  her 
murmuring.  "  Keep  Morton  hoodwinked  a  little  longer. 
I  will  take  you  where  the  great  world  will  be  at  your  feet. 
I  am  nearly  ready."  But  Marie  Ashton  chafed. 

Her  blue  eyes  blazed,  as  her  shapely  foot  beat  time  to 
her  complaints  :  "  I  am  tired  of  this  idle  life.  Get  me 
out  of  it." 

Burnham  had  never  gained  a  clew  to  the  lost  beauty 
of  his  dreams.  Even  Walter  Maxwell — roving  over  the 
town — in  theatre  and  cafe,  in  park  and  drive,  was  unable 
to  solve  the  mystery.  That  austere  intellect — Mrs. 
Selina  Francis — was  fain  also  to  conclude  that  the  van 
ished  Mrs.  Marie  Ashton  was  in  Europe,  or  in  the  far 
South. 

Abel  Cram,  having  verified  more  than  one  weekly 
hegira  to  Harlem — via  "Boston" — now  feared  his  em 
ployer  less. 

"  If  I  can  only  see  Wise  and  Burnham  out  of  the  firm, 
Morton  would  not  dare  punish  me,  even  if  he  did  find  me 
out." 

But  Cram's  brain  ached,  as  he  racked  it  daily,  to  find  a 
safe  way  to  pass  his  shortages  over  the  settlement.  "  I 
must  trust  to  Overton,"  he  sadly  concluded. 

It  was  in  early  November  that,  with  keen  eyes,  Abel 
was  scanning  the  casual  customers,  and  watching  the 
routine  of  morning  business.  A  young  woman  entered 
and  offered  for  sale  a  bond  of  small  denomination. 
Casually  called  to  the  negotiation,  Abel  recognized  the 
young  woman  who  had  spurned  his  five-dollar  bill.  "  She 
does  not  know  me,"  he  thought,  with  a  slight  flutter  of 
the  nerves. 

The  hawk-eyed  woman  soon  undeceived  him.  As  she 
received  the  money  for  the  bond,  she  passed  him  a  slip 
of  paper  on  which  she  had  been  figuring. 


!>KI,II,MI     OF    HARLEM.  145 

He  read  :  "  Follow  me  out.  I  must  speak  to  you." 
She  was  gone  without  a  word. 

Taking  his  hat,  Cram  sauntered  out.  On  a  near  corner, 
the  harpy  was  waiting  for  him.  Turning  into  a  dark 
entry  as  he  joined  her,  she  said  :  "  Now,  I  want  you  to 
do  me  a  favor,  Mr.  Abel  Cram  !  "  He  started. 

"  How  do  you  know  my  name  ? "  he  faltered. 

"I  know  all  about  your  firm.  I 'want  you  to  give  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Seth  Wise  privately.  I  must  see  him  at 
once,"  she  said  sharply. 

"  And  if  I  do  not  ? "  Abel  retorted. 

"  I  have  those  behind  me  who  will  serve  you  out  if  you 
don't.  You  are  spotting  your  master,  Mr.  Henry  Mor 
ton  !  He  would  kick  you  out  of  doors  in  a  minute  if  he 
knew.  Now,  do  as  I  say,  and  you  won't  be  harmed. 
Here's  the  letter.  Will  he  be  down  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Abel  answered  meekly.  Her  nerve  was  stronger 
than  his.  "  I'll  do  it.  I  won't  be  involved  ?" 

"  You  can  simply  say  I  left  it  with  you.  I  know  all  of 
you  by  sight.  I've  watched  your  place  a  week.  Now, 
I  will  wait  for  him  as  I  have  written.  If  he  asks  about 
me,  be  sure  to  say  I  am  a  respectable,  ladylike  person." 
She  maliciously  plumed  herself  as  she  spoke. 

Cram  entered  the  office,  and  finding  Seth  Wise  arrived, 
handed  him  the  letter,  retiring  at  once.  In  five  minutes 
Seth's  bell  rang. 

"  Mr.  Cram,  do  you  know  the  woman  who  left  this 
letter  ?"  Seth  asked,  his  face  flushed.  His  eyes  were 
searching  Abel's  face. 

"  No,  sir  !  She  was  a  ladylike,  youngish  person. 
Looked  like  a  clerk  or  literary  woman." 

"  That  will  do,  Cram."     Seth  was  in  a  brown  study. 

Abel  escaped,  not  too  hastily.  "  This  means  business," 
the  clerk  muttered. 

Seth  Wise  passed  out,  with  a  few  words  to  Morton. 
The  old  man  had  slipped  a  pistol  in  his  pocket,  and,  as 

10 


146  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

he  passed  the  cashier,  drew  a  check  and  folded  some  large 
notes  away  in  his  pocket. 

His  brow  was  stern.  The  old  man  sighed  as  he  hailed 
a  cab  and  gave  the  order  :  "  Drive  up  to  the  Eden  Musee." 
A  dozen  times  did  he  read  the  brief  note.  "  This  is  very 
serious,"  he  muttered.  The  letter  was  plainly  and  well 
written,  in  a  woman's  hand  : 

NEW  YORK,   November  8,  1889. 
MR.  SETH  WISE, 

Morton,  Burnham  &  Co., 

Bankers  and  Brokers, 
New  York  City. 

SIR  :  I  am  aware  of  your  relationship  to  Mrs.  Claire  Morton.  I 
am  also  aware  that  you  have  large  funds  in  your  firm  under  the 
management  of  Mr.  Henry  Morton.  It  is  imperative  for  your  money 
interests  and  your  family  honor  that  you  should  know  the  fullest 
details  of  Mr.  Henry  Morton's  East  River  adventure.  He  is  lavishing 
thousands  on  a  worthless  woman — and  the  proofs,  history,  and  whole 
details  can  be  had  for  a  proper  consideration.  Meet  me  at  the  Eden 
Musee  at  once.  I  will  come  up  and  speak  to  you.  Come  alone,  for 
you  will  be  carefully  watched.  After  our  interview,  you  will  have 
my  full  name  and  address. 

A  FRIEND  OF  JUSTICE. 

While  Seth  Wise  chafed  over  this,  he  was  forced  to 
admit  that  the  Eden  Musee  was  a  safe  and  respectable 
place.  "There's  nothing  can  happen  to  me  there,"  said 
he.  "  What  devilish  thing  is  to  be  told.?  Poor  Claire  !  " 

While  he  drove  along,  in  a  Sixth  Avenue  restaurant, 
in  a  private  room,  Ed.  Haggerty,  the  reporter,  sat  at 
table  with  the  snappy-eyed  Viola  Pomeroy. 

They  were  exchanging  the  last  words  before  their  joint 
campaign  opened. 

"  Ed.,  you've  traced  out  clearly  every  point.  You're  a 
wonder  !  "  the  woman  admiringly  said.  "  I  am  sure  we 
have  got  the  subject  thoroughly  explored.  Now  is  the 
time  to  strike.  We  must  have  money  to  marry."  Her 
eyes  sparkled. 


DKI.1I.AH    OK    HARLEM.  147 

"  And  I  have  sworn  revenge  on  that  proud  fool  who 
pushed  me  out  of  his  servants'  door."  Haggerty's  round 
ugly  eyes  gleamed  with  hatred  as  he  spoke. 

"  Pshaw  !  Ed.,  what's  revenge  worth  ?  Nothing.  We 
want  a  trip  to  Europe  together — you  and  I.  This  will 
be  a  big  stroke  for  us.  Now,  I'm  off  !  Follow  me,  watch 
for  him,  and  only  join  me  if  I  make  a  sign.  When  he 
gets  the  truth,  he  won't  rage.  He  is  sure  to  protect  his 
favorite  niece.  You  say  she  is  his  darling." 

"  I've  got  the  whole  family  history  from  their  servants 
and  the  stablemen.  The  old  man  rolls  in  money,"  Ed. 
replied.  "  Now  go  !  Make  it  five  thousand — not  a  cent 
less — and  offer  the  proof  at  once.  One  thousand  down  !  " 

"  All  right !  "  And  Viola  Pomeroy  passed  out  to  meet 
Seth  Wise,  as  he  entered  the  door  of  the  Musee.  She 
was  fairly  presentable  in  manner  and  dress.  Seth  Wise 
was  astonished,  as  this  prepossessing  woman  stepped  up, 
saying  frankly,  "  Mr.  Seth  Wise  !  " 

"  That  is  my  name,  madam,"  said  the  old  banker. 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here,  where  we  can  be  unheard,"  the 
woman  calmly  said,  as  she  noted  Haggerty,  in  fair  range, 
examining  the  rather  ghastly  trophies  of  art. 

"  I  will  proceed  to  business,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  low, 
but  distinctly  audible  to  the  agitated  old  man.  "  I  will 
not  talk  of  your  firm,  friends  or  family  to  distress  you.  I 
will  only  say  that  I  know  every  detail  of  these  matters. 
If  you  wish  to  verify  it,  ask  me  any  question  you  wish." 

The  old  man  nodded,  "  Go  on  !  " 

"  Henry  Morton  is  a  demented  fool.  He  is  crazy  over 
a  woman  who  is  ruining  him  body  and  soul.  As  to  his 
being  a  scoundrel,  I  leave  that  for  you  and  his  innocent 
wife  to  say.  I  have  lived  nearly  two  months  in  the  same 
house  where  he  keeps  this  woman  in  a  royal  nest.  I 
have  watched  him  and  have  every  hour  of  his  visits  and 
detail  of  his  actions  clearly  set  down  here."  She  drew 
out  a  business-like  document. 


KjS  DKUf.AH    OK    HARl.fc".M. 

"  Go  on,"  the  old  man  fiercely  said. 

"  He  left  his  sick  wife  to  languish  alone  and  has  been 
haunting  these  rooms  with  that  infamous  woman,  every 
moment  he  could  steal  away.  His  Boston  trips  are  a  lie 
and  a  sham.  He  has  been  watched  for  over  six  weeks,  as 
he  would  leave  the  train,  a  few  miles  out,  and  steal  back 
to  her  house — remaining  there  till  Monday  morning." 

u  By  God  !  what  a  rascal  !  "  Seth  hissed  out.  u  Is  this 
true  ? " 

"  True  as  Gospel,"  she  firmly  said.  "I  have  a  copy  of 
this  document.  If  we  agree,  you  can  take  this  with  you. 
Now,  as  to  the  wreck  of  the  yacht  in  the  East  River. 
He  took  this  dame  out  for  a  moonlight  adventure.  They 
were  accidentally  wrecked.  He  saved  her  by  a  mere 
chance.  He  spent  that  whole  night  at  her  rooms,  and 
you  know  the  affair  nearly  killed  his  wife.  The  man  is 
in  the  room  here  now  who  wrote  that  article,  and  he  can 
give  you  proofs  you  can't  resist.  Moreover,  he  will  go 
with  you  and  face  Morton,  if  you  wish  it.  We  have  also 
the  cab-driver  who  took  the  lovers  to  her  house.  I  will 
now,  Mr.  Wise,  tell  you  that  I  will  put  you  face  to  face 
with  Henry  Morton,  in  her  rooms,  on  his  next  visit,  if 
you  wish." 

"What  do  you  want?"  Wise  asked,  his  lips  trembling 
with  rage.  "Be  brief." 

"I  am  handling  this  as  a  simple  business  matter.  I'll 
give  you  the  whole  papers.  I'll  furnish  you  the  man  ! 
He  will  go  with  you  and  serve  you  till  you  have  finished 
this  affair.  We  will  prevent  all  further  publicity,  and 
destroy  all  the  proofs.  I  want  five  thousand  dollars — 
one  thousand  cash  down,  and  the  other  four  when  you 
are  fully  satisfied.  I  know  you  wish  to  protect  your 
business  interests,  and  spare  your  niece  a  life  of  agony. 
I'll  walk  around  the  room  two  or  three  times.  Make  up 
your  mind.  You  shall  have  my  name  and  address.  I 
will  give  you  every  proof  of  my  respectability." 


DELILAH    Ql?    HARLEM.  149 

She  was  gone,  leaving  Seth  Wise  astounded.  In  a  few 
minutes,  he  motioned  to  her.  "  Call  the  man  here.  It's 
a  bargain  !  "  he  said,  in  a  dry,  hard  voice. 

"  I'll  take  the  thousand  first,"  Viola  Pomeroy  quietly 
remarked.  "  You'll  have  the  man  in  a  minute." 

"  There's  your  money,"  said  Wise.  She  quietly  counted 
it,  and  handed  him  the  desired  paper. 

In  a  moment  Haggerty  was  seated  by  Wise. 

"  Is  what  this  woman  has  told  me  true  ? "  Wise 
asked  with  stern  accents.  He  had  now  a  man  to  deal 
with. 

"  Every  word,"  said  Haggerty  quietly.  "  I'll  prove 
it!" 

"  Then  I  want  you.  I'll  pay  you  outside  of  this  bar 
gain.  Can  you  come  with  me  now  ? "  WTise  asked. 

"  Yes,"  the  reporter  answered. 

"  Then  we  will  go  at  once.  I  want  you  to  watch  Mor 
ton — from  the  moment  he  leaves  the  bank  till  he  returns 
—until  I've  done  with  your  services.  You  can  stay  at 
my  house." 

"  All  right  !     I'm  ready,"  said  Haggerty. 

Viola  Pomeroy  quietly  gave  Seth  Wise  a  card,  with 
her  name  and  new  address,  for  she  designed  a  change  of 
rooms. 

Calmly  holding  out  the  crisp  bills  to  Haggerty,  the 
woman  made  ready  to  go. 

"  Keep  it,"  said  the  chivalric  Ned.     "  I  can  trust  you." 

Seth  Wise  handed  her  his  house  address.  "  If  I  want 
you,  come  there  at  once." 

The  strollers  in  the  Musee  were  in  ignorance  of  these 
business-like  transactions,  carried  on  among  the  grinning 
wax  figures.  Many  a  delicate  affair  has  been  adjusted 
there. 

"  Drive  to  my  house,"  cried  Wise,  as,  without  a  word, 
he  unrolled  the  document.  He  read  the  title,  and  his 
rage  grew  with  every  word  : 


150  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

THE    WRECK    OF    THE    FANTINE  :    AN    EAST 
RIVER    MYSTERY. 

A  NOVEL. 

BY    VIOLA    POMEROY. 

"  What's  this  nonsense  ?  "  the  old  man  asked. 

"We  were  going  to  publish  it  in  the  Sunday  journals," 
Haggerty  artfully  said.  "  It  would  have  been  quite  suc 
cessful." 

"  I  think  it's  very  successful  as  it  is,"  growled  the  old 
banker.  "  Now,  Haggerty,"  said  he,  "  I'm  going  to  tell 
my  butler  to  take  good  care  of  you.  Here's  some  money. 
I'll  come  up-town  with  Morton  to-night,  and  you  can 
watch  his  house  till  he  starts  for  the  bank.  If  he  don't 
leave  his  house  by  ten  o'clock,  then  come  back  and  turn 
in.  The  butler  will  open  for  you.  I'm  a  bachelor." 

Leaving  Haggerty  installed,  Seth  Wise  drove  to  the 
bank.  "  I  will  take  the  important  money  matters  of  the 
bank  out  of  this  young  fool's  hands.  But  I  must  trap 
him  first.  I'll  bring  his  wife  face  to  face  with  this  blonde 
she-devil  !  "  Wise  snorted  over  the  description  of  Marie 
Ashton's  charms,  which  Haggerty  gave  him.  Her  name, 
locality,  and  the  last  details  wer,e  reserved  until  the  visit 
to  the  spider's  parlor,  which  Seth  proposed,  with  Haggerty 
as  his  pilot. 

Locking  the  successful  novel  in  his  private  safe,  Seth 
Wise  set  himself  to  play  the  rfile  of  spy  upon  the  man 
whose  fortune  she  had  builded  up  for  years. 

Seth  Wise  sat  for  days  afterward,  heart  sick,  in  his 
private  rooms  at  the  office.  Around  him  lay  shattered 
the  ruins  of  a  life-time  work  of  loving  kindness.  From 
time  to  time,  he  exchanged  a  few  necessary  words  with 
Morton  on  business  affairs.  Seth  had  schooled  himself 
to  make  no  sign  of  his  agony  and  distrust. 

Morton  was  frequently  absent  for  an  hour  in  the  day 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  15! 

on  his  now  regular  conferences  with  Overton.  The  sly 
gambler  decided  not  to  risk  his  own  great  business 
scheme  by  too  many  visits  to  the  bank,  Or  becoming  en 
tangled  in  this  bitter  quarrel,  daily  growing  more  acri 
monious. 

He  moved  his  shifting  bank  account  by  messengers 
through  Riley's  brokers,  for  even  the  old  Boniface  dab 
bled  in  Wall  Street.  The  New  York  stock  craze  rages 
in  all  ranks  ! 

Burnham  frequently  examined  Overton's  very  active 
account.  "  Quite  a  large  account,  Cram,"  he  remarked 
one  day. 

u  Oh  !  he's  a  sly  one,  is  Mr.  Overton,"  said  the  clerk. 
"  He  is  on  two  or  three  sides  of  stocks,  and  works  here 
through  many  different  brokers." 

"  He  seems  to  make  good  winnings,"  replied  Burnham. 
"  So  he  does.     He  has  evidently  inside  tips,"   Cram 
listlessly  answered. 

Burnham  turned  away.  He  knew  not  that  these  hand 
some  deposits  were  often  Morton's  lavish  money  gifts  to 
Marie  Ashton,  given  with  the  foolish  hope  of  exciting  her 
to  wilder  caresses — to  a  more  unrestrained  loosening  of 
her  passions.  To  gratify  her  every  whim,  to  feel  the 
power  of  his  money,  in  casting  it  at  her  feet,  was  a  fever 
ish  whim  of  the  banker  lover. 

Before  the  evening  shadows  began  to  fall  from  Old 
Trinity's  spire,  Seth  Wise  had  read  every  line  of  Viola 
Pomeroy's  narrative.  It  appalled  him.  He  carefully 
pocketed  it  for  reference. 

"  Now,  what  can  I  do  ?  I  can't  make  this  dreadful  scan 
dal  public.  I  don't  dare  to  tell  Burnham.  I  can  watch 
all  the  routine  business..  My  own  money  (Claire's  future 
endowment)  is  safe.  I  don't  want  to  ruin  this  poor  young 
fool  ;  I  cannot  hope  to  buy  this  blonde  woman  devil  off. 
Claire  shall  not  be  a  subject  of  public  pity  as  a  cast-off 
wife — a  broken-hearted  divorcee.  He  has  basely  lied  to 


152  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

her,  to  Burnham,  and  to  me.  He  keeps  up  this  nonsense 
—this  criminal  double  life — in  spite  of  all.  What  a  fool  ! 
I  think  I'll  use  shame  and  fear.  Claire  has  a  little  spirit. 
I  will  bring  her  face  to  face  with  this  siren.  It  must  be 
done  !  Exposed  and  baffled,  his  Boston  trips  impossible, 
Morton  will  have  to  obey  his  wife  and  me.  Detection 
would  ruin  his  future  business.  I  suppose  the  woman 
has  already  robbed  him  of  enough  to  change  her  station 
on,  without  great  regret,  Morton  will  be  in  my  power. 
If  Claire  then  shows  her  nerve,  he  will  fear  to  make  a 
public  scandal.  She  will  never  let  him  go  free,  to  please 
this  devilish  adventuress.  And  the  poor  boy  may  get 
over  his  madness  !  Well  !  I'll  pin  him  down  to-night," 
grimly  ejaculated  old  Seth. 

It  was  time  for  departure  from  the  bank.  The  great 
vault  doors  swung  to,  after  the  day's  harvest,  and  the 
huge  books  were  all  safe  behind  the  steel  lockwork — a 
marvel  of  ingenuity. 

Flanagan,  the  night-watchman,  with  club,  lantern,  and 
pistol,  was  ready  to  mount  guard.  A  faithful  old  re 
tainer — a  gallant  veteran  soldier  ! 

Morton  left  his  office,  snapping  his  latched  door.  Seth 
laid  his  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  I'll  drive  you  up  home,  Morton.  I  won't  be  here 
to-morrow.  I  have  a  few  things  to  say  to  you." 

"  Will  not  to-morrow  night  do  ?  I  can  call  at  your 
house,"  Morton  replied.  "  I  have  a  social  engagement 
up-towrn." 

"  By  no  means  !  "  said  Seth,  with  authority. 

Morton  was  fain  to  yield.  In  the  long  drive  up-town, 
Wise  disposed  of  several  current  open  matters  of  grave 
moment.  He  artfully  brought^  up  the  subject  of  the 
wreck,  the  quarrel,  the  newspaper  scandal,  and  the  future 
of  the  young  man  before  him. 

Stolidly,  coldly,  and  artfully,  Harry  Morton  lied,  and 
nailed  the  door  upon  his  past  honorable  life. 


DELILAH    OK    HARLEM.  153 

As  they  neared  Morton's  house,  Seth  gravely  said  : 
"  Henry,  I  wish  you  to  carefully  weigh  all  your  reasons 
for  breaking  up  this  prosperous  firm — for  denying  your 
wife  her  cousin's  friendship— and  for  leaving  me  helpless 
between  three  people  I  love,  whose  interests  are  all 
dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  I  am  getting  an  old  man 
now,  my  boy."  He  spoke  almost  fondly. 

Morton  defiantly  remarked  :  "  I  hope  you  will  re 
member  that  I  am  not  dependent."  This  was  a  stab  at 
Burnham.  "  I  have  not  flattered  you.  My  position  has 
been  made  intolerable  by  Burnham.  I  am  done  with  him 
forever,  You  are  free  to  continue  your  interest  in  my 
wife's  welfare.  He  is  not — not  till  I'm  dead  !  "  he  said 
savagely.  "  Then  I  propose  to  cherish  Claire  while  I 
live,  and  manifest  my  love  at  my  death,"  Wise  retorted 
with  a  bitter  energy  which  astonished  Morton.  "And 
on  that  score,  I  shall  consult  you  no  longer.  Good 
night,  sir  ! "  Old  Seth  Wise  threw  his  head  up  like  a 
lion  at  bay,  as  Morton,  without  a  word  beyond  "  good 
night,"  entered  his  house. 

"  Home  !  "  cried  Wise.  As  the  horses  sprang  away, 
he  vowed  to  give  Henry  Morton  a  shock  which  would 
shatter  his  palace  of  sin  around  him. 

"  No  pity  now  !     ft  must  be  done,"  he  growled. 

"  Riley,"  said  Overton,  as  they  sat,  a  day  or  two  later, 
plotting  the  impending  departure,  "  do  you  know  a  good 
safe  place  in  Brooklyn  where  I  could  remove  the  lady 
and  our  personal  goods — on  the  instant  if  needed  ?  I'll 
keep  my  little  camp  here  with  you." 

'*  Just  the  place  !  A  friend  of  mine  !  I'll  go  over  my 
self  to-morrow  and  see  him.  It's  handy  to  the  wharf,  and 
at  a  pinch  the  tug  could  take  her  from  there,  or  you  from 
here,  day  or  night,  to  the  schooner." 

<l  Good  !  Attend  to  that  !  "  Overton  said.  "  Now,  I 
want  a  couple  of  U.  S.  passports  if  we  go  in  those  strange 


154  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

% 

lands.  How  can  I  work  that  ?  I  am  anxious  about  that 
— about  the  names." 

"  Aisy,  me  boy  !  "  cried  Riley,  with  his  occasional 
brogue.  "  I'm  solid  at  the  Court  House.  The  boys  in 
the  Passport  and  Naturalization  Bureau  have  them  left 
over  by  people  who  don't  call.  I'll  pick  up  a  couple,  and 
you  can  give  me  a  general  description  that  would  half 
way  suit  the  lady.  I  can  fix  you  out.  Ye're  not  particu 
lar  about  yer  new  name.  Anything  will  do  for  those  fel 
lows,  there." 

"  Glorious  !  "  cried  Overtoil.  "I  will  move  the  lady 
over,  on  pretence  of  going  South  for  a  couple  of  weeks, 
quietly  to  your  friend's  house.  Now,  Thanksgiving  Day 
is  Saturday.  The  bank  will  close  from  Friday  afternoon 
till  Monday  morning.  That  gives  us  Friday,  Saturday, 
and  Sunday  nights  to  work.  I  will  clear  out  six  or  eight 
days  before,  and  I'll  leave  my  papers  and  tin  box  (he 
chuckled),  of  immense  value,  in  the  vault,  but  I'll  draw 
my  cash  account  down  to  a  few  hundred  dollars.  You 
can  make  a  deposit  of  a  few  hundreds  to  my  credit  after  I 
go.  I  have  a  man  in  Leadville  who  will  send  a  business 
despatch  in  my  name.  They  will  never  suspect  me.  I 
have  the  whole  thing  solid  now,  for  I  have  a  man  who's 
got  to  do  the  trick,  and  be  the  suspected  party." 

Overton  paused,  and  took  a  deep  draught. 

"  Tom,  ye're  a  wonder  !  Ye  should  have  been  a  lead 
ing  professional  instead  of  a  dribbling  amatoor.  Ye'd 
have  made  a  great  fortune." 

"  Yes,  and  landed  in  Sing  Sing  !  I  am  safe  in  working 
by  my  wits,"  Overton  growled. 

"  Well,  anyway,  ye're  a  daisy  !  "  said  Riley,  proud  of 
his  friend.  "  Don't  ye  want  some  help  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,  except  a  trusty  hack-driver.  I  don't  know 
such  a  one." 

"  I've  your  man.  He's  one  of  our  own  wharf  gang," 
Riley  joyfully  cried. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  155 

"Then  I'm  all  safe,"  Overton  replied.  "  I'll  be  ready 
to  see  Oliviera,  in  two  or  three  days,  with  you.  But  I 
hardly  know  what  to  do  with  my  man — the  fellow  who 
does  the  job." 

"  D'ye  want  him  dropped  in  ? "  Riley  huskily  whispered, 
afraid  of  his  own  words — indicating  the  bay  with  his 
thumb. 

"  No,  you  fool  !  He  must  live,  to  be  suspected," 
Overton  replied. 

"  Suicide  faked  up,  with  a  letter — we  could  fix  him 
in  an  out-of-the-way  place,"  Riley  persisted.  "  Dead  min 
don't  talk,  ye  know." 

"  The  police  would  get  at  it,"  Overton  thoughtfully 
said. 

"  Carry  him  off  wid  you  and  fix  him  at  sea.  They'd 
think  he  ran  away,"  Riley  ingeniously  suggested. 

"  That  might  do  !  We'll  think  it  over,"  said  Tom,  as 
he  strolled  off  to  meet  Abel  and  look  in  on  Marie. 

Overton,  learning  from  Cram  of  the  almost  final  pur 
chases  of  the  bonds  to  replace  Seth  Wise's  capital,  said 
carelessly,  as  they  chatted  :  "  I  suppose  your  cash  reserve 
has  been  greatly  increased  ?  " 

"  Almost  doubled,"  Abel  replied.  "  Morton  is  smart. 
He  knows  our  depositors  will  flurry  a  little  at  this  change, 
and  he  will  be  ready,  December  ist,  to  meet  all  runs. 
The  money  will  all  flow  back  in  a  few  days.  Oh,  he's 
smart  !  " 

"  Some  of  it  won't,"  Overton  gleefully  thought. 

"  I  am  nervous  and  anxious  about  those  books,"  Abel 
said.  "  They  might  call  me  down  any  minute." 

"  Pooh  !  don't  fret.  I'll  see  you  through.  I'll  be 
where  you  can  act  in  a  minute,"  Overton  said,  as  they 
took  their  last  glass.  "  Don't  lose  your  nerve,  man  !  " 

Long  sitting  in  colloquy,  that  night,  Tom  and  the 
Witch  of  Harlem  settled  every  point  of  mutual  interest. 
"  Be  ready  to  act,  at  a  moment's  notice.  Night  or  day, 


156  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

keep  ready  to  move.  Is  that  fool  coming  here  next 
Saturday  ?  "  the  gambler  asked,  with  a  gleam  of  discon 
tent. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  as  she  dropped  her  eyes.  She  was 
not  entirely  shameless. 

"  Keep  him  then  on  the  rack.  Get  him  half-wild,  if 
you  can.  Make  him  drink.  By  the  way,  Kate,  if  he 
has  any  little  presents  to  throw  around,  make  your  hay 
while  the  sun  shines." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Because  his  trip  after  the  next  will  be  the  last  he 
makes  '  to  Boston ' — and  we — we  will  be  on  the  high 
seas,"  the  gambler  retorted.  "  I  won't  trust  my  luck  too 
long  here." 

"  Leave  me,  Tom,"  she  cried.  "  I  am  tired.  It's  all 
right.  I'll  do  as  you  wish."  As  Overton  disappeared, 
she  drank  half  a  tumbler  of  creme  de  menthe  and  threw 
herself  on  the  divan.  Even  her  iron  nerves  were  shaken. 

Saturday  morning,  the  bank  was  crowded  with  its  rush 
of  short-day  customers.  Seth  Wise,  wary  and  calm, 
watched  Morton,  as  one  who  gazes  on  the  condemned 
man  going  stolidly  to  his  doom. 

"  It  must  be,"  he  mentally  decided.  "  It  is  his  moral 
death-blow.  Poor  fool  !  Poor  fool  !  " 

"  Mr.  Cram,"  Wise  said,  stepping  to  the  factotum, 
"  give  me  five  thousand  dollars  in  large  notes  " — hand 
ing  over  his  personal  check. 

Seth  looked  grimly  at  the  package  of  bills  in  his  office, 
as  Cram  closed  the  door.  "  Four  thousand  for  the  suc 
cessful  novel — one  thousand  more  to  buy  that  scoundrel 
Haggerty's  silence  !  "  he  growled.  "  I  don't  mind  it. 
It's  not  the  money.  It  is  the  villany." 

For  Haggerty  had  well  and  truly  played  his  ignoble 
part.  Viola  Pomeroy  was  summoned  early  next  day  to 
Seth  Wise's  house,  to  surrender  the  retained  copy  of  the 
"  novel,"  and  receive  her  blood  money. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  157 

Twelve  o'clock  closed  the  ebb  and  flow  of  money  at 
the  bank  over  the  counters.  Old  Seth  prayed  to  God, 
with  ashy  lips,  in  his  office,  that  Morton  would,  by  some 
chance,  forego  his  usual  trip  to  the  *'  harem  in  Harlem." 

Alas  !  no.  As  old  Banker  Wise  locked  his  private 
door,  Morton,  umbrella,  wrap,  and  portmanteau  in  hand, 
said  :  "  I'll  be  here  at  noon,  Monday,  Mr.  Wise." 

"  Do  you  go  out  of  town  ? "  Seth  asked,  almost 
humbly. 

"  I  am  going  to  Boston.  I  am  closing  out  all  my 
interests  there  to  meet  this  change.  I  take  the  Elevated. " 
And  he  went  out,  with  a  cold  nod. 

Wise  leisurely  walked  out  of  the  bank,  his  head  bowed 
in  deep  thought. 

"  It  must  be.  So,  then,  let  it  be.  I  will  not  see  Claire 
ruined  and  despised.  I'll  tame  this  boy's  pride  yet." 

Seth  wise,  sitting  at  his  lonely  board  in  his  old  family 
mansion,  said  to  his  butler,  when  his  luncheon  was 
finished  :  "  Is  Haggerty  below  ?" 

''Yes,  sir.  He  has  been  here  all  day  writing,"  the 
servant  replied. 

Haggerty's  nimble  brain  was  really  busied  in  fabricat 
ing  picked-up  items  for  the  Sunday  journals — flotsam  and 
jetsam  of  broadcast  social  gossip. 

"  Send  him  up,  Sharp,"  Wise  directed. 

"  Haggerty,"  said  the  old  man,  as  the  scribe  appeared, 
"  dress  yourself  quietly,  so  as  to  attract  no  attention. 
Get  your  pistol."  The  reporter  nodded.  "  Get  up  to 
Marie  Ashton's  house.  Stay  there  till  Morton  comes. 
Be  prudent.  Is  there  a  telegraph  office  near  ?  " 

The  scribe  nodded. 

<k  Send  me  a  despatch  when  he  comes,  '  All  right,'  if 
Morton  arrives.  If  he  leaves  the  place,  telegraph  that. 
If  he  comes  back,  do  the  same.  Sign  with  some  assumed 
name.  Now,  I  will  come  there  at  nine  o'clock  exactly,  and 
bring  a  lady  in  a  carriage.  Tell  me  the  corner  to  stop  at, 


158  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

and  meet  me.  I  shall  have  two  trusty  men  with  me,  on 
the  box.  You  are  to  go  quietly  up-stairs,  and  tell  the 
colored  girl  you  must  see  the  lady  for  a  moment.  We 
will  then  follow  you.  All  you  have  to  do  is  keep  the 
door  open.  I  will  be  responsible  after  that.  Make  no 
mistake  about  Morton  being  there." 

u  All  right,  sir,"  Haggerty  said.  "  And  the  money  ? " 
he  asked,  in  a  cold  business-like  way. 

"  It  is  all  on  my  person — with  an  excellent  revolver. 
My  second  man  will  guard  the  hallway  below.  If  you 
have  told  the  truth,  your  money  is  safe." 

Seth  Wise  was  soon  left  alone.  He  paced  the  room 
excitedly  till  his  dinner-time.  The  expected  despatch 
came  at  four  o'clock — "  All  right. — H."  Ordering  his 
closed  carriage  for  dinner-time,  Seth  studied  the  address 
given  to  him  by  Ed.  Haggerty.  All  the  final  details  were 
to  be  revealed  after  the  discovery. 

"  I  will  prepare  the  little  woman,"  old  Seth  reasoned 
out.  "  I'll  send  her  a  note  telling  her  I  will  dine  with 
her." 

In  half  an  hour,  the  acceptance  was  returned. 

Seth  was  strangely  distrait  during  the  duet  dinner. 
Claire  watched  in  wonder  his  gloomy  preoccupation.  At 
eight  o'clock,  the  bell  rang.  A  note  was  handed  to  the 
old  banker  by  the  watchful  valet.  "  The  carriage  is  at 
the  door,  sir,"  the  serving-man  reported. 

"  Stay  with  it — I  may  need  you,"  Wise  replied. 
**  Claire,"  he  said,  when  they  were  alone,  "  it  is  a  heav 
enly  night.  You  are  too  much  in  the  house.  I  have  to 
take  a  drive  up  to  the  Park  to  see  a  young  person  who 
is  ill — the  daughter  of  an  old  friend.  Come  with  me,  my 
child.  The  ride  will  do  you  good." 

In  ten  minutes  the  steady,  swift  trot  of  a  splendid 
team  was  rapidly  bearing  them  to  the  appointed  rendez 
vous.  Seth  Wise's  heart  beat  rapidly. 

"  It  is  cruel,  but  it  is  the  only  way  to  open  her  eyes." 


PRUT,  AH    OF    HARLEM,  159 

It  seemed  an  age  until  the  carriage  stopped  at  the 
corner  indicated.  The  valet  opened  the  door.  He  had 
his  orders.  As  Wise  and  Claire  alighted,  Haggerty 
advanced  and  whispered  a  word  to  the  watchful  old 
man. 

Steadily  up  the  stair  of  the  apartment  house — Hag- 
gerty  in  advance — the  three  moved.  Wise's  face  was 
ashy  pale.  His  thin  lips  were  sternly  compressed. 

At  the  first  turn,  Haggerty  whispered,  "  Here  we  are," 
and  then  calmly  pressed  the  electric  button. 

As  tne  startled  Fanny  turned  to  deliver  Haggerty's 
message,  the  undaunted  scribe  inserted  his  foot  in  the 
door  left  ajar.  Brushing  him  aside,  Seth  Wise,  his  eyes 
ilaming,  led  Claire  boldly  into  the  parlor.  There,  amid 
all  the  debris  of  a  rich  feast  a  deux,  with  every  abandon 
of  guilty  lovers  at  their  ease,  sat  Marie  Ashton,  in  her 
richest  robes,  displaying  to  the  utmost  her  matchless 
charms.  Harry  Morton,  wine-flushed  and  maudlin,  was 
lying  at  her  side.  The  frightened  negro  Fanny  fled, 
only  to  be  drawn  into  her  own  room  roughly  by  Hag 
gerty,  who  now  guarded  the  outside  door. 

Morton,  with  staring  eyes,  sprang  to  his  feet,  rushing 
forward,  in  drunken  fury. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  yelled,  as  his  wife,  Claire  Morton, 
tottered,  falling  prone  with  a  broken  scream  : 

"  My  God  !   Harry  !     Oh  !  my  God  !  " 

It  was  the  foolish  husband's  arms  which  laid  her  on 
the  rich  divan,  where  Marie  Ashton  queened  it  while 
lying  in  wait  for  her  prey. 

"  Stay,  madam,"  harshly  commanded  Wise,  as  he 
grasped  the  jewelled  wrists  of  the  handsome  Witch  of 
Harlem  as  she  rose. 

u  Coward  !  "  she  hissed,  "let  me  go." 

"I  will  let  you  go,"  Wise  snarled.  u  You  will  go  far 
from  here,  and  soon.  In  the  meantime,  look  at  your 
work,  you  she-devil  !  " 


l6o  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Morton,  half-crazed,  burning  rage  in  his  heart,  with 
trembling  hands  sought,  among  the  costly  flowers  and  the 
gleaming  wine-flasks  of  the  table,  vainly  for  a  carafe  of 
cold  water  to  dash  on  the  brow  of  the  lifeless  woman. 

u  Let  her  alone,  you  brute  !  "  Wise  shouted  to  the 
frenzied  man.  "  I  will  take  her  to  the  only  home  she 
will  ever  have." 

While  the  moaning  woman  faintly  opened  her  eyes  and 
gazed  at  the  three,  Wise  proceeded,  with  cold  energy  : 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Henry  Morton,  your  trips  to  '  Boston '  are  at 
an  end.  If  your  harlot,  here,  is  in  New  York  to-morrow 
night,  I'll  see  her  landed  on  Blackwell's  Island.  You 
need  not  rage,"  he  sternly  said. 

Marie  Ashton  dropped  easily  in  a  chair  and  coldly 
eyed  the  prostrate  woman  and  her  own  foolish  lover  at 
bay — wife  and  light  o'  love  face  to  face  ! 

"  Take  me  away,  Uncle  Seth  !  Take  me  away  !  " 
Claire  moaned,  trying  to  rise.  She  fell  back.  Henry 
Morton  sprang  to  her  side.  His  wife  waved  him  off, 
with  a  wild  gesture  of  unutterable  disgust,  and  dropped 
senseless. 

Morton  turned  angrily  on  Wise.  "  Leave  the  room. 
Leave  my  wife  to  me,"  he  cried,  rushing  at  old  Seth. 

Wise  cried,  "  Not  a  step,  sir  !  "  Calling  briskly,  he 
was  instantly  joined  by  Haggerty,  who  had  locked  the 
frantic  colored  girl  in  her  room. 

"  Haggerty,  just  watch  that  man,"  said  Wise,  indicating 
Morton  as  he  toiled  to  bring  Claire  to  her  senses. 

Alert  and  erect,  his  hand  on  his  pistol,  Haggerty 
quietly  said  :  "  Good-evening,  Mr.  Morton  !  How  did 
you  like  the  little  article  ? "  Morton  quivered  in  a 
speechless  rage.  He  dared  not  speak. 

"  Madam,  have  you  taken  any  more  swimming  lessons?" 
the  scribe  flippantly  remarked  to  Marie  Ashton,  who  was 
now  standing  idly,  mute,  and  coldly  eying  the  different 
members  of  the  excited  group. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  l6l 

In  a  few  minutes  Claire  Morton  was  able  to  sit  up. 
"  Take  me  away,  Uncle  Seth  !  "  she  feebly  whispered. 

"  I  will,  my  own  dear  child  !  "  Wise  said,  with  growing 
tenderness.  "  First,  I  want  you  to  know  what  this  man's 
love  and  devotion  amount  to.  Speak  up  now,  Haggerty." 

Haggerty  coldly  said  :  "  I  helped  to  bring  this  woman, 
Mrs.  Marie  Ashton,  from  the  wreck  of  the  Fantine  here 
to  this  house.  This  man  and  I  carried  her  up  the  stair 
to  this  very  room,  where  he  spent  the  whole  night.  For 
the  last  two  months  and  over,  he  has  been  at  least  for 
two  days  of  every  week  an  inmate  of  these  rooms.  I 
have  every  day,  date,  and  detail  recorded,  and  good 
witnesses." 

"  Betrayed  !  You  coward  cur  !  "  Morton  dashed 
madly  at  Haggerty. 

"  Move  an  inch  further,  and  I'll  scatter  your  brains 
over  the  floor."  The  reporter's  pistol  was  pointing  fairly 
between  Morton's  eyes. 

"  Enough  !  "  Wise  said.  "  Come,  my  darling  !  "  as  he 
raised  Claire.  Marie  Ashton  had  sprung  between  the 
two  younger  men.  Her  statuesque  beauty  was  a  luring 
beacon  of  sin. 

Turning  at  the  door,  old  Seth  Wise  said,  in  a  chilling 
voice,  to  the  baffled  Witch  of  Harlem  :  "  You  had  better 
leave  this  city  quickly." 

To  Harry  Morton,  with  a  withering  sneer,  he  cried  : 
"  You  poor,  lying  fool,  I  will  leave  you  here  in  your  sty. 
You  hid  better  live  at  your  club  after  this,  if  you  can 
tear  yourself  away  from  this  'lady,'"  he  said,  with  a 
sneer.  "  I  shall  occupy  your  own  house  with  my  niece 
until  you  can  come  to  your  senses,  or  are  properly 
landed  in  an  insane  asylum.  Don't  you  dare  to  speak 
to  me  at  the  bank,  unless  I  address  you."  And  the  old 
man  and  the  fainting  woman  were  gone.  Haggerty 
acted  as  a  rear-guard.  A  family  crisis  in  the  Four 

Hundred  ! 
ii 


l62  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

A  BROKEN  IDOL.     JOSE"    OLIVIERA'S    SHIPPING  VENTURE. 
ABEL    CRAM'S    DILEMMA.      A    WALL    STREET    BANK 

ROBBERY. 

PLACING  Claire  in  the  carriage,  Wise  directed  his  won 
dering  valet  to  go  down-town  alone.  "  Haggerty,  you 
take  the  box  seat,"  he  ordered.  "  Drive  steadily,"  he 
cried,  as  the  door  closed. 

Not  a  hint  of  the  social  tragedy  annoyed  the  other 
denizens  of  the  apartment  house.  Humanity  ebbs  and 
flows,  a  ceaseless  river,  through  the  crowded  caravansa 
ries  of  New  York,  in  nomadic  knots.  Joining,  mingling, 
severing,  mating  and  unmating — for  good  or  evil — these 
human  tides  flow  in  and  out,  from  the  social  poles  of  the 
winter  "  season,"  to  the  torrid  zones  of  reckless  summer. 

Poor  Claire  Morton,  her  aching  head  resting  on  her 
old  uncle's  shoulder,  sobbed  wildly.  "  Oh,  my  Harry  ! 
My  God  !  my  husband  !  " 

Seth  soothed  her,  without  wasting  words.  For  her 
idol  was  broken.  Her  eyes  were  at  last  opened.  In 
mournful  silence,  the  party  reached  Morton's  deserted 
home. 

Seth  earnestly  begged  Claire  to  restrain  herself,  and 
enter  her  own  home  calmly.  "  Rouse  your  pride,  my 
dear  child.  I  will  go  to  my  house  and  return  thence  on 
foot.  Let  me  see  you  at  once  when  I  return.  I  shall 
stay  near  you  to-night." 

"  I  will  do  all  you  wish.  You  are  all  I  have  now, 
Uncle  Seth,"  the  suffering  woman  whispered. 

So,  leaving  her  to  await  him,  Seth  drove  to  his  home. 
He  signed  to  Haggerty  to  enter  with  him. 

In  his  library,  he  now  counted  out  the  four  thousand 
dollars,  without  a  word  to  Haggerty.  "  Tell  me  all  ? " 
he  sternly  said. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  163 

In  a  half-hour,  Seth  knew  every  reserved  detail.  Hag- 
gerty  had  the  rare  prudence  to  make  no  comment. 

"  Can  you  stay  here  a  couple  of  weeks  with  me  ? " 
Wise  said. 

"  Certainly  !  "  answered  the  overjoyed  reporter,  whose 
successful  revenge  was  deliciously  sweet.  He  had  seen 
proud  Harry  Morton  humbled  beyond  his  wildest  dream. 

"  Here's  something  extra  for  you,"  Wise  said,  handing 
him  a  roll  of  bills.  Haggerty's  politeness  caused  him  to 
pocket  the  added  thousand  without  looking  at  it.  "  Go 
to  the  Club  quickly,  watch  Morton,  and  see  who  goes 
with  him,  if  he  leaves.  Report  at  seven  to-morrow  morn 
ing  to  me  at  Mr.  Morton's  house.  Have  no  affray  with 
Morton — on  your  peril  !  Keep  a  strict  silence  as  to  this 
whole  affair." 

Haggerty  bowed  his  head,  and  was  away  like  a  shot. 

Seated  with  Claire  in  her  boudoir,  as  the  clock  struck 
eleven,  Seth  finished  his  well-considered  advice  to  the 
deserted  wife. 

"  You  can  do  nothing  now.  Leave  Morton  to  me. 
I'll  see  him  to-morrow.  There  must  be  no  open  scandal. 
You  know  all  the  truth  you  need  to.  Hear  his  whole 
story,  and  then  decide  what  to  do.  But  do  nothing  in 
haste — nothing  at  all,  without  first  consulting  me.  You 
are  my  own  child  now."  The  old  man  laid  his  hand 
solemnly  on  her  head. 

"But  Harry!  Harry!"  she  pleaded.  "He  will  do 
something  desperate." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Shame  will  keep 
him  quiet.  He  must  hold  up  his  head  and  finish  his 
affairs.  He  will  get  out  of  this  craze  by  and  by,  and  you 
and  he  must  decide  on  a  future.  Better  that  he  should 
be  cured  at  the  expense  of  his  vanity  and  this  sorrow, 
than  go  on  to  utter  ruin." 

"  Ah  !  she  is  so  beautiful — so  lovely  !  "  Claire  moaned. 


164  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Damn  her  loveliness  !  "  roared  the  old  man.  "  Don't 
you  cry  your  eyes  out.  He  is  simply  a  foolish  fellow. 
I'll  send  you  and  him  off  to  Europe  for  a  year.  You'll 
forget  all  this  nonsense  yet." 

"  Uncle  Seth,"  she  said  proudly,  her  pale  face  flush 
ing,  "  it  is  all  over.  We  can  never  be  the  same  again." 

"  We  will  see — we  will  see,"  said  the  old  man  cheer 
fully,  as  he  hobbled  to  his  room. 

"  Poor  child  !  poor  child  !  "  mused  the  veteran  banker, 
as  he  dropped  into  the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

When  Marie  Ashton  and  Morton  were  left'alone  in  her 
bower,  he  paced  the  room  excitedly  for  five  minutes. 
In  a  harsh,  dry  voice  he  said  :  "  What  can  we  do  now  ?  " 

Marie  Ashton's  lip  curled.  "  If  you  have  any  concep 
tion  of  the  ruin  you  have  brought  on  me,  go  down  and 
telegraph  to  this  address,  at  once.  Stay  !  "  she  said. 
"  Send  a  carriage  to  bring  Overton  instantly.  Here's  a 
note." 

She  dashed  off  a  few  words  to  her  "  guardian." 

Come  at  once.     Imminent  danger. — MARIE. 

"  Come  back  to  me  here,"  she  imperiously  said.  He 
darted  down  the  stair. 

She  waited  till  his  foot  died  away.  Springing  to 
Fanny's  room,  she  released  the  frightened  negro. 

"  Pack  everything  up,  you  black  fool !  "  she  sternly 
said.  "  Don't  wait  an  instant  for  sleep.  Overton  will 
throw  you  out  of  the  window,  I  fear." 

The  girl's  teeth  chattered  as  she  flew  to  her  work. 
Several  previous  flittings,  like  this,  returned  to  her  mind. 

Marie  Ashton  was  sullen  and  moody.  Her  lover  was 
helpless — he  seemed  pusillanimous  and  wretchedly  feeble 
in  her  eyes  now. 

"  I  suppose  he  will  sacrifice  me  to-day,  with  a  man's 
cowardly  selfishness  !  "  She  longed  now  for  Tom  Over- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  165 

ton's  ready  wit.  Securing  her  money  and  jewels,  she 
smiled  as  she  gazed  on  her  treasures.  Here  was  wealth. 
"  Not  empty-handed — and  Tom  has  a  round  sum  of  cash 
in  the  bank." 

Morton  hastily  drained  a  glass  of  brandy.  He  lit  a 
cigar  and  gazed  out  of  the  window. 

«  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  he  hazarded. 

"  Are  you  going  to  your  club  ? "  Marie  asked,  with 
faintly  disguised  scorn. 

"  Yes,  it  is  better.  I  would  rather  explain  to  Overton 
there.  Then  I  will  send  him  back  here  when  I  am  done 
with  him." 

Marie  coldly  said  :  "  I  think  you  had  better  go  now." 

"  What  will  you  do,  Marie  ?  "  Morton  pleadingly  said. 

A  lightning  thought  crossed  her  mind.  "  I'll  find  out 
how  careful  he  is  of  his  money.  He  shall  pay  for  his 
folly." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  slowly  answered.  "  Your  mad 
imprudence  has  ruined  me.  Of  course,  it  won't  hurt 
you"  she  reflectively  said.  "  The  woman  always  suffers 
— but — I  only  hope  Overton  won't  meet  that  old  fiend 
who  dragged  your  wife  in  here.  There  will  be  murder 
if  he  does.  Overton  is  no  coward  !  " 

"  For  God's  sake  !  no  violence,"  Morton  pleaded,  as 
he  dropped  on  his  knees  by  her  side.  "  It  would  ruin 
you,  him,  me,  and  all  of  us.  Listen,  Marie  !  I  wish  you 
would  go  over  to  Brooklyn.  I  am  sure  nothing  will  be 
said  in  public.  Old  Wise  dotes  on  my  wife.  He  will 
keep  quiet  for  her  sake.  He  has  this  spy  fellow  in  his 
pay.  I  will  give  you  money.  Get  out  of  here  at  once. 
Go  over  to  Brooklyn.  I  will  tell  Overton  it's  all  a  black 
mail  scheme  to  force  me  out  of  the  banking  firm.  He 
will  believe  it.  You  can  make  him  believe  it.  For  God's 
sake  !  don't  leave  me.  It  would  kill  me." 

"Your  wife,"  she  murmured,  half -relenting. 

"  Let   old  Wise  cover  her  with  his  millions — I   have 


l66  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

enough.  If  she  leaves  me,  I'll  marry  you.  I  must  be 
prudent  till  I  settle  with  these  people.  I  can  see  you 
quietly.  I'll  tell  Overton  there  has  been  no  complication. 
After  all,  nothing  is  really  known." 

"  And  you  would  really  marry  me  ? "  she  murmured, 
the  old  velvety  softness  in  her  voice. 

"I'd  bless  the  day,"  he  cried,  clasping  her  to  his  breast. 
He  at  least  was  true  to  his  darling  sin. 

"  Harry,"  she  said,  fixing  her  splendid  eyes  on  him, 
"  I'll  trust  you.  I  have  two  years  yet  of  my  probation. 
Make  me  independent  of  Overton's  anger,  and  I  will 
stay  near  you." 

"  What  do  you  wish? "  he  huskily  cried. 

"  I  leave  that  to  you.  I  am  not  exacting.  But  I  must 
be  independent.  Nqw,  I  am  thinking  of  your  interests. 
Go  to  the  club.  Think  this  all  over.  I  will  lead  Over- 
ton  up  to  receive  your  explanation.  I  leave  here  before 
nine  o'clock." 

"  But  how  shall  I  meet  you  ?  Where  ?  I  wish  to 
show  you  I  feel  how  I  have  tied  your  hands,  my  poor 
darling  !  You  shall  not  suffer." 

Marie  returned  his  caresses — the  old  madness  swept 
into  his  brain. 

Kissing  his  brow  lightly,  she  whispered  :  "  I  will  send 
you  a  messenger  to  the  bank  who  will  guide  you  to  me. 
Not  even  Overton  will  know— no  one,  but  you  and  I," 
she  cried,  throwing  herself  in  his  arms. 

Morton  was  enraptured.  "  My  life  !  my  soul !  "  the 
excited  man  murmured,  as  her  kisses  burned  his  lips  into 
a  new  fever.  "Wait,"  he  whispered,  "wait  till  I  see 
you  again  ! " 

"  Now  go,"  she  cried,  leading  him  to  the  door.  "  I 
fear  for  both  of  us." 

With  a  madman's  cunning,  he  gained  his  club  by  a 
circuitous  route,  leaving  orders  to  have  any  visitors 
shown  up. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  167 

Five  minutes  after  his  departure,  Overton  entered 
Marie's  room.  Pacing  the  floor,  he  listened  to  Marie 
Ashton's  recital.  She  quivered  in  her  heart,  lest  some 
brutal  outbreak  might  prove  to  her  that  she  was  only  a 
slave  to  a  human  fiend.  Overton  sat  down  at  the  table 
and  smiled.  "  This  folly  makes  our  fortune.  Have  a 
fresh  bottle  of  wine  opened,  and  listen  to  me.  At  nine 
o'clock,  you  will  leave  here.  I'll  send  for  you.  You 
have  money  ? " 

She  smiled.     "  Plenty,  Tom  !  " 

"  Good  !  The  party  I  send  will  drive  you  over  the 
Thirty-fourth  Street  Ferry  to  me.  I'll  put  you  in  a  swell 
Brooklyn  hotel  and  keep  away  from  you  for  a  day  or  so. 
I  will  have  a  safe  retreat  provided  later.  Let  Morton 
know  where  you  are.  He  will  steal  in  and  see  you. 
Then,  while  this  hubbub  goes  on,  we  will  clear  out, 
when  I  have  finished  my  little  business." 

He  whispered  a  word  or  two  in  her  ear.  A  strange 
devilish  smile  dawned  on  her  face.  "  I  see  it  all  now. 
I'm  really  tired.  Let  me  rest.  It's  all  right." 

"  You'll  hear  from  me,  three  or  four  times  a  day. 
Don't  go  out  an  instant.  You're  a  regular  genius  for 
tangling  a  man  up.  I'll  make  you  rich  !  " 

He  was  gone. 

Marie  Ashton  calmly  threw  open  the  windows,  and 
studied  the  stars  while  the  frightened  maid  cleared  up 
the  debris  of  the  luckless  feast. 

"These  rich  New  York  fools !  "  she  murmured.  "  They 
all  think  they  can  play  with  fire,  unscathed.  The  first 
new  face — some  budding  beauty,  some  nameless  stranger 
— would  chase  any  loving  woman  from  their  cold  and 
narrow  hearts.  Pride,  vanity,  luxury,  excitement,  all 
this  devil's  whirlpool  they  swim  in,  bear  them  away  into 
some  new  eddy.  I  wonder  what  Morton  really  means. 
Is  it  love  ?  Nonsense,  passion,  a  strange  craze,  or  weak 
ness  ?  What  will  he  do  for  me  to-morrow  ?" 


l68  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

And  again  she  calmly  slept  on  her  field  of  battle, 
victory  perching  on  the  rosy  flag  of  Venus. 

Morton  impatiently  awaited  Overton  at  his  club. 
He  had  his  story  ready.  It  was  midnight  when  Over- 
ton  entered.  His  brow  was  serious  but  his  manner 
friendly. 

"  This  is  a  bad  business,  Morton,"  he  exclaimed.  In 
five  minutes  the  anxious  explanations  of  the  banker  were 
over.  Tom  paced  the  room,  sipping  his  wine  reflectively. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  this  has  happened.  I  naturally  shall 
remove  my  personal  account  till  you  are  alone  in  busi 
ness.  I  would  not  trust  myself  to  see  that  old  dog  Wise. 
He  and  this  Burnham  have  some  scheme  to  force  you  to 
your  utter  ruin.  Look  out  for  them.  Now  I  must  go  to 
Denver  in  a  few  days.  I  shall  probably  take  Mrs.  Ash- 
ton  south,  and  leave  her  there  for  a  month  or  two.  I'll 
leave  a  little  money  in  the  bank  to  meet  any  odds  and 
ends,  but  I  can't  stand  by  and  see  her  insulted.  The 
man  who  annoys  her  will  suffer.  The  man  who  attacks 
her  dies  !  "  He  brought  his  fist  down  with  energy  on 
the  table.  "  I  know  you  mean  well,  Morton.  You  have 
no  right  to  protect  her,  but  I  have,  and  I'll  do  it.  Now, 
do  you  keep  cool.  This  family  flare-up  will  cool  down. 
These  things  always  do.  Bless  you  !  there's  a  dozen 
stories  I  know  worse  than  this.  Keep  cool.  Don't  let 
them  bluff  you.  Why,  if  they  proceed  to  extremities, 
they  can't  prove  a  thing  against  you.  I  have  too  much 
confidence  in  Marie  Ashton  to  believe  a  breath  against 
her.  I  feel  my  responsibility,  as  I  know  you  acted  for 
me,  and  by  my  wishes.  I  can't  tell  my  business  to  every 
one.  If  Wise  stirs  your  wife  up  to  attack  you,  tell  them 
plainly  to  see  your  lawyer.  That  will  stop  off  both 
Burnham  and  Uncle  Wise.  As  for  your  good  wife,  you 
can  explain  reasonably  to  her,  and  make  her  see  matters 
in  the  right  light.  Be  patient.  Meet  me  at  the  Insur 
ance  Club  at  noon.  I'll  draw  out  my  money  to-morrow. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  169 

Now,  good-night  !  This  business  has  agitated  me  very 
much.  I  must  prepare  to  move  Mrs.  Ashton  early." 

u  You'll  give  her  new  address  to  me,  Overton  !  "  said 
the  banker,  clasping  his  hand  warmly. 

"  I'll  give  it  to  you  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Hold  ! 
I  had  better  let  you  wait  till  we  can  go  over  there  to 
gether.  We'll  meet  here  at  noon  every  day  till  I  leave. 
It  will  save  appearances.  I  prefer  not  to  enter  the  bank. " 

Overton  gravely  departed. 

"  It's  not  so  very  bad,  after  all,"  Morton  meditated,  as 
he  threw  himself,  half-undressed,  on  his  bed.  "All  I 
have  to  do  now  is  to  talk  Claire  over.  As  for  Wise  and 
Burnham,  I'll  punish  them  yet."  And  he  fell  asleep, 
grinding  his  teeth.  Poor  fool  ! 

When  Morton  entered  the  bank  next  day,  Seth  Wise, 
with  grave  face,  endeavored  to  open  conversation  with 
him.  Standing  with  his  back  to  the  closed  door  of  his 
sanctum,  Morton  remarked  :  "Mr.  Wise,  you  can  see  my 
private  lawyer  when  you  wish  to.  As  for  my  wife,  I  will 
attend  to  my  own  family  matters.  I  believe  that  is  all, 
sir  !  "  And  Seth  Wise — the  victor — passed  out,  non 
plussed  and  heavy-hearted. 

The  bank  was  quiet.  All  moved  on  as  usual.  "  The 
clerks  don't  dare  to  talk  too  much,"  bitterly  thought 
Morton.  And  then  the  heated  blood  surged  to  his  brain, 
as  his  heart  asked  him,  u  When  will  Marie's  messenger 
come  ?  " 

He  left  the  bank,  taking  some  of  his  private  securities, 
and  returned  in  an  hour  with  a  package  of  twenty  thou 
sand  dollars  in  new  currency.  "  She  shall  never  suffer, 
I  swear  !  " 

Precisely  the  same  oath,  Marie  Ashton  was  swear 
ing  on  her  own  account,  in  the  violet  velvet  private 
parlors  of  her  new  nest  in  Brooklyn's  greatest  hos 
telry.  "I  think  I  may  safely  send  for  him  now,"  she 
mused — for  Overton,  with  approving  smile,  had  said  : 


170  DELILAH    OP   HARLEM. 

"  Keep  Morton  on  the  string,  while  I  attend  to  our 
business." 

Morton — loving  and  beloved — was  only  too  ready  to 
entangle  himself  deeper  in  the  toils.  Those  witching 
eyes,  the  clinging  white  arms,  and  the  fair  witch's  pas 
sionate  kisses,  were  they  not  worth  the  whole  world  ? 
It  seemed  so. 

Harry  Morton  entered  the  bank  next  day  with  a  tri 
umphant  smile  on  his  face.  There  was  a  look  of  stern 
resolve  on  his  sharply  cut,  nervous  features.  For  he 
was  acting  on  the  line  of  offensive-defensive  tactics  laid 
out  for  him  by  Overton. 

"  Wonderful  man  that  !  "  Morton  mused. 

As  he  enjoyed  his  cigar  he  reviewed  the  field  of  battle. 
"  Burnham  does  not  dare  make  a  move.  His  guns  are 
all  spiked.  Seth  is  now  afraid  of  his  own  work.  As  for 
Claire,  she  begins  to  see  where  her  own  interests  lie  !  " 

For  he  had  boldly  entered  his  own  house  the  evening 
before.  Claire  met  him  with  composure  in  their  own 
rooms. 

There  was  no  sign  of  any  social  upheaval  as  Morton 
passed  up  the  staircase  in  the  home  of  luxury  to  meet 
his  now  indignant  wife.  Excited  but  resolved,  his  brain 
was  fired  with  the  necessity  of  self-protection,  and  of 
seeing  the  blonde  queen  of  his  heart  once  more. 

Claire's  lips  were  firmly  compressed.  Her  dark  eyes 
were  angrily  flashing,  although  her  manner  was  out 
wardly  calm.  In  the  smart  set,  these  little  mauvais  quarts 
d'heure  occur,  even  when  the  reporter  of  the  daily 
"  Universe  "  cannot  get  all  the  details  on  the  spot. 

Morton  said  quietly :  "  I  will  rejoin  you  in  a  few 
moments." 

Retiring  to  his  rooms,  his  nimble  valet  readjusted  his 
costume.  Descending,  he  rang  for  the  butler,  and,  over 
an  apollinaris,  decided  that  the  servants  knew  nothing. 
The  house  was  in  its  normal  condition.  With  an  affected 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  17! 

nonchalance,  he  rejoined  his  wife.  As  he  climbed  the 
stair,  he  quietly  said  to  himself  :  "  This  delay  is  a 
damper  to  the  shock  of  my  return.  Yet  she  has  no  tears, 
and  wears  an  ominous  face.  I  fear  it  is  war.  Thank 
God  !  the  servants  know  nothing." 

"  Now  I'm  ready  to  talk  this  matter  over  with  you," 
Morton  said,  as  he  made  himself  comfortable. 

"  And  what  have  you  to  say  ?  "  burst  out  Claire  Mor 
ton.  Her  bosom  was  heaving.  Her  dark  eyes  flashed 
lightning.  Her  nervous  strides  up  and  down  the  room 
betokened  suppressed  passion.  Morton  was  reclining 
on  a  Persian  couch. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  calmly,  as  he  drew  out  a  cigar. 
"  You  will  permit  me  !  " 

Claire  sternly  said,  as  she  dropped  into  a  chair,  "  I 
wish  to  know  all  about  the  '  Boston  train,'  your  myste 
rious  trips,  your  '  urgent  business.'  " 

"  She  don't  know  all  she  would  have  me  believe  she 
does,"  mused  Morton,  looking  at  Claire  from  under  a 
cloud  of  smoke.  "  I  have  nothing  especial  to  say,"  he 
slowly  answered. 

"  I  know  this  !  "  Claire  cried,  springing  wildly  to  her 
feet.  "  You  are  one  of  a  thousand  married  men  in  New 
York.  You  all  lead  double  lives.  The  wife,  lonely  at 
home — the  sultana  dreams  in  luxury,  in  Brooklyn — in 
Harlem — or  in  Jersey  City.  And  you  all  have  '  business  ' 
to  keep  you  away  from  home."  Her  voice  rang  shrill  in 
its  scorn. 

u  Don't  arouse  the  servants,"  Morton  coldly  said. 
"  They  are  our  masters,  you  know.  Do  you  want  to  get 
your  name  in  the  newspapers  ?  "  Claire  winced. 

"  I  will  know  all  about  that  woman,  about  your  deceiv 
ing  me.  I  will  leave  you  forever,  if  you  cannot  explain 
this  thing."  Her  eyes  were  filled  with  bitter  tears.  She 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro.  The  salt  tears  slowly  trickled 
through  her  hands. 


172  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  She's  weakening,"  said  Morton  to  himself,  as  he 
gazed  calmly  on  her  suffering.  "  It's  rough,  but  I've  got 
to  do  it." 

"  Harry,  I  have  been  a  good  wife  to  you.  You  must 
know  that  I  can  never  live  with  you  again.  You  have 
made  me  the  scorn  of  New  York.  You  have  broken  my 
heart.  I'll  not  stand  it,"  Claire  shrieked  as  she  wildly 
walked  the  spacious  room.  "  I  will  leave  you  forever. 
This  is  my  house.  Go  to  your  hidden  beauty — tout  do 
not  come  here  daily  with  lies  on  your  lips." 

A  battle  of  bitter  words  raged  for  half  an  hour.  The 
sad  culmination  of  a  marriage  a  la  mode  ! 

Furtively  watching  the  passionate  woman,  Morton  said 
to  himself  :  "  This  scene  must  stop.  She'll  be  soon  in 
hysterics." 

"  Now,  have  you  said  all  you  can  ? "  he  calmly  re 
marked,  as  the  exhausted  woman  threw  herself  in  a  huge 
chair.  "  Listen  to  me.  You  have  gently  reminded  me 
that  this  is  your  house.  I  can  leave  it.  Well,  I  will 
leave  it — and  you — forever.  You  are  a  fool  in  business. 
Don't  make  yourself  a  termagant  at  home.  We  are  not 
leading  a  baby  existence,  here,  in  New  York.  You  are 
not  fit  to  hear  anything  further  now.  I  will  not  speak 
till  you  are  reasonable.  I  have  a  devil's  fight,  at  the 
bank,  on  my  hands." 

He  paused  ;  the  sobbing  woman  suddenly  lifted  her 
head. 

"What  do  you  New  York  women  care  for?  "  he  hotly 
said.  "  We  can  lie  and  steal  and  toil,  we  can  break  our 
hearts  and  rack  our  brains,  to  keep  you  silken-clad 
idlers  in  golden  luxury.  I  am  tired  of  it  all." 

He  followed  up  with  this  telling  point  :  "  Old  Seth 
Wise  makes  my  life  a  hell.  He  fills  your  ears  with 
childish  gossip.  I  toil — he  takes  the  greatest  share  of 
my  earnings.  Every  day,  you — your  interests,  your 
future,  your  wishes — are  dinned  into  my  ears.  And  now, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  173 

you  tell  me  this  is  your  own  house.  So  it  is.  You  can 
live  in  it — alone  !  I  will  leave  it  forever." 

Stopping  in  his  nervous  march  before  her,  he  said  : 
"  Madam,  marriage  is  a  two-edged  sword.  I  will  tell 
you  something.  While  I  bear  the  whole  burden,  that 
smooth-faced  fool  Burnham  lolls  around  you  with  his 
flattery,  or  drags  down  at  noon  to  draw  money  enough 
to  send  you  rich  presents.  He  flatters  old  Wise.  He 
hangs  around  you  like  a  lapdog.  I  am  tired  of  it.  I 
have  held  my  peace.  I  don't  care  to  throw  away  my 
future,  my  record  here,  my  life.  But,  thank  God  !  I've 
got  some  little  money  of-my  own.  You  can  live  in  your 
own  house,  and  have  your  uncle  and  Mr.  Ralph  Burn- 
ham  break  up  our  home." 

Claire  was  now  crying  softly  in  abject  weakness. 

"  I  will  leave  our  home  to  you.  If  you  can  stand 
the  publicity,  the  social  disgrace,  the  scandal,  you  shall 
take  the  responsibility,  by  heavens  !  You  know  what 
divorced  women  are  in  New  York — every  man's  prey. 
Go  ahead  !  Join  the  sisterhood  !  " 

"  Oh  !  Harry,  you  will  break  my  heart,"  Claire  mur 
mured. 

"  You  have  already  broken  mine,"  he  bitterly  said. 
"  But  it's  all  right  now.  I  am  the  master  here  yet."  He 
thought  of  the  meeting  with  Mane.  "  Listen  to  me. 
Be  reasonable,"  he  said,  seating  himself  at  her  side.  "  I 
do  not  wish  to  further  alarm  or  annoy  you.  There  will 
be  a  time  when  I  can  explain  all  to  you.  I  will  say  noth 
ing  of  the  efforts  of  others  to  ruin  my  business  interests 
and  to  part  us.  I  will  give  you  just  a  week  to  think 
these  matters  over.  There  is  not  a  bit  of  proof  that  I 
have  wronged  you.  That  I  innocently  deceived  you,  is 
true.  I  will  only  tell  you  that  I  have  had  a  trust  of 
honor,  affecting  another.  I  have  moved  secretly  to  get 
money  reserves  together  to  pay  Seth  Wise  out.  I  must 
be  master  of  this  situation,  or  go  to  ruin  as  a  financial 


174  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

leader.  Ralph  Burnham,  I  will  get  rid  of  at  any  cost.  Old 
Seth  will  grumble,  and  come  into  the  traces  in  a  few 
months.  I  don't  object  to  you  seeing  him,  and  listening 
to  his  garbled  reports  of  me  and  my  doings.  It  is  only 
just  that  no  other  man  should  poison  your  mind  against 
me.  The  seal  of  silence  will  be  broken  in  a  few  weeks." 

He  spoke  with  seeming  frankness.  Flickering  faith 
lighted  again  its  fires  in  Claire's  breast.  She  stretched 
her  loving  arms  out  to  him.  "  Come  back  to  your  home, 
my  husband.  No  one  knows  of  our  trouble  yet.  Uncle 
Seth  will  keep  quiet  for  my  sake." 

Showering  Judas  kisses  upon  her  pale  lips,  Morton 
pressed  her  to  his  breast.  He  could  feel  the  two  soft 
packages  of  money — a  small  fortune — destined  for  the 
lovely  Witch  of  Harlem. 

The  old,  old  fashion  !  To  the  end  of  the  world,  the 
current  of  lying  intrigue  and  dissimulation  divides  men 
and  women  in  the  active  or  passive  combat  of  love  and 
marriage. 

Catching  at  these  straws,  the  poor  wife  was  fain  to 
believe  him  and  be  happy  even  under  the  storm  clouds. 

So  it  was  that,  from  his  own  home  next  day,  Morton 
quietly  wended  his  way  to  the  bank — a  victor  in  one  field. 

As  he  reflected  in  his  office,  he  decided  on  a  bold 
stroke.  Entering  Seth  Wise's  rooms,  he  said  coldly  :  "  I 
have  made  a  statement  to  my  wife.  I  returned  home  at 
her  request.  I  leave  you  free  to  see  and  advise  her.  I 
now  wish  to  hasten  the  closing  of  our  affairs.  The  time 
is  drawing  near.  I  shall  give  orders  to  have  all  the 
accounts  ready  on  December  ist,  and  our  employees  to 
have  their  books  ready  for  the  experts.  Do  you  approve  ? 
I  want  to  part  with  clean  hands,  in  business,  anyway." 

"  Certainly,"  Wise  sadly  said.  "  Henry,  you  know  I 
have  every  confidence  in  your  mercantile  honor.  Do  as 
you  wish." 

In  five  minutes  the  bank  was  in  a  flurry.     The  news 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  175 

was  spread  by  Abel  Cram,  who  was  sick  at  heart.  The 
day  of  retribution  was  coming  upon  him.  Tom  Overton 
was  the  only  hope — his  only  stay  from  prison. 

"I'll  see  him  to-night,  before  I  lose  my  mind,"  mused 
the  desperate  chief  clerk. 

Before  noon,  Morton,  his  routine  business  done,  was 
eagerly  watching  every  footstep  on  the  threshold.  A 
smart  messenger  boy,  entering  furtively,  handed  him  a 
plain-looking  note.  He  tore  it  open.  Its  few  words 
made  his  heart  bound  with  wild  delight.  It  read  : 

No.  257.  Come  right  up.  Second  floor.  The  boy  will  show  you 
the  house.  Burn  this. — M.  A. 

With  a  smile  he  sauntered  out.  Marie's  call  to  her 
arms  !  Not  a  word  did  he  speak  as  he  crossed  the  ferry. 
Reaching  Brooklyn,  he  called  a  cab. 

"  Don't  need  it.  'Tain't  so  fur  off,"  the  boy  quickly 
said. 

Morton  threw  the  boy  the  generous  cab-fare.  The 
messenger  grinned.  "  The  guvnor's  on  some  little 
private  snap,"  the  freckled  youth  said.  The  boy  was  sad 
at  a  lost  opportunity  of  blackmail — for  it  was  the  negro 
maid  who  had  hired  him,  and  paid  him  royally  once.  He 
had  not  seen  the  fair  Delilah.  "  No  good  to  pipe  him 
off,"  the  boy  dejectedly  admitted.  "  The  woman's  very 
fly!" 

"There's  your  house,"  said  the  messenger,  pointing  to 
the  entrance  of  a  great  hotel.  He  turned  and  rapidly 
disappeared,  without  a  word. 

The  banker  strolled  in,  and  after  a  casual  promenade 
through  offices  and  a  slight  delay  in  the  cafe-saloon, 
quietly  ascended  the  stairs. 

In  a  few  moments,  with  triumphant  smiles,  he  clasped 
the  glowing  siren  to  his  arms. 

"You  see,"  she  smiled,  "  nothing  can  divide  us." 

He  drew  her  closer  to  his  bosom.  Rapidly  recounting 
his  evening  conference  with  Overton,  Morton  said :  "  My 


176  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

own  darling,  we  must  be  always  on  our  guard,  when  I 
come  here  with  Overton.  I  have  kept  my  faith.  Here 
is  something  which  will  enable  you  to  be  independent  of 
him,  and  yet  be  near  me,  if  you  will  manage  to  control 
his  suspicions.  I  will  answer  for  myself.  Here  is  twenty 
thousand  dollars." 

He  placed  the  two  packets  in  her  hands.  She  wound 
her  arms  around  him,  and  whispered  words  which  made 
his  heart  throb  with  passion's  utmost  intensity. 

Two  hours  later — the  confident  air  of  a  king  on  his 
brow — Morton  retraced  his  steps  to  the  bank  by  the 
upper  ferry. 

"Overton  must  never  know  of  this  windfall,"  Marie 
Ashton  murmured,  as  she  surveyed  her  glowing  face  in 
the  mirror.  "  I  have  now  the  basis  of  a  campaign  in 
Europe.  I'll  keep  this  money  at  my  own  disposal.  Tom, 
I  am  out  of  your  power  now.  I  have  been  a  bond  slave 
too  long.  Now  for  freedom  !  " 

And  Marie  Ashton  dreamed  of  future  happy  days 
when  the  shadows  of  Tom  Overton 's  desperate  ventures 
would  not  make  her  start  in  affright. 

Luxury,  adulation,  excitement,  love,  and  lovers  she 
must  have.  The  royal  years  of  womanhood  were  yet 
before  her,  but  the  chain  of  the  black-hearted  Overton — 
though  lightly  held — began  to  gall  the  aspiring  Delilah. 

"  This  is  real  power — this  is  the  only  power,"  she 
exulted,  as,  after  careful  reckoning,  she  divided  and 
secreted  the  price  of  Harry  Morton's  crowning  dishonor 
and  her  own  infamy. 

At  the  South  Ferry  haunt,  Tom  Overton,  with  Riley, 
awaited  the  conference  with  Jose  Oliviera. 

"  It's  all  right,  me  boy.  To-night  at  eight.  Jose  has 
a  little  shipping  office  down  here,  near  there,  in  an  ould 
junk-shop  ;  he  has  a  telegraph  and  telephone,  an'  messen 
gers,  an'  all,  for  his  dirty  work — an'  we're  all  on  the  dead 
quiet." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  177 

"Just  right,  Riley,"  said  Overton.  "I've  got  to  see 
my  lady  and  frighten  that  fool  Cram  a  little,  then  I'm 
ready  for  action.  Have  you  got  the  sandbag  ready  ? " 

"Here  she  is — an' she's  a  beauty,"  said  Riley;  "though 
why  the  divil  the  boys  call  it  a  sandbag,  I  don't  know. 
This  is  a  lead  oilskin,"  he  said,  with  an  Irish  bull. 

Overton  grasped  the  deadly  tool  Riley  handed  him. 
It  was  a  piece  of  soft,  thin  lead-pipe,  about  two  feet  long 
and  an  inch  in  diameter,  plugged  at  the  ends  and  loosely 
filled  with  heavy  shot.  It  was  covered  with  an  eelskin, 
and  a  strong  leather  thong  for  the  wrist  was  knotted  on 
one  end  securely. 

"One  of  me  sailor  boys  made  that.  A  good  crack 
with  that  on  the  head  of  a  man  with  a  soft  hat,  or  bare 
headed,  and  he'll  never  speak  agin.  It  breaks  and 
crushes  the  skull  an'  leaves  no  mark.  Sure,  the  man 
stays  demented  anyway,  if  he  don't  die." 

"Good  !"  said  Tom,  with  a  grim  smile.  "I'm  off," 
and  he  wandered  away  to  confer  with  Marie  Ashton,  see 
Cram,  and  await  Oliviera. 

In  frantic  fear,  Abel  Cram,  when  he  escaped  from  the 
bank,  related  to  the  waiting  gambler  the  dilemma  in 
which  the  sudden  order  for  an  examination  of  the  books 
placed  him.  "  I've  got  to  be  all  square  and  safe  on 
Friday  night,  or  clear  out.  If  I  don't,  then  State  prison 
waits  me.  On  Monday  the  experts  will  come  in  and 
work — side  by  side  with  us — till  the  first  of  the  month, 
when  they  take  all  the  books  for  a  week.  We'll  then 
only  keep  daily  blotters  of  cash  and  checks  in  and  out 
until  they  are  done.  You  must  save  me,  for  God's 
sake  !  "  He  clung  to  Tom. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Cram.  We  will  act  Friday  night. 
I'll  have  all  ready.  To-morrow  night  we'll  stay  here  till 
we  have  all  fixed.  Are  you  still  controlling  the  time- 
lock?" 

"Yes,  that's  dead  right,"  the  clerk  whispered. 

12 


178  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Then  we're  safe,"  cheerfully  cried  Overton.  "  Don't 
you  drink  too  much.  Keep  up  your  nerves  steady, 
though." 

Cram  was  driven  along  like  a  leaf  in  the  storm,  and 
clung  to  the  stronger  villain  with  implicit  faith. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  office  of  Jose  Oliviera,  on  South 
Street,  was  tenanted  by  its  chief  and  the  two  conspirators. 
Jose  Oliviera,  a  small  dark-skinned  Spaniard  of  fifty, 
nervously  pulled  his  long  gray  mustaches,  and  dallied 
with  a  Havana  cigar,  three  sizes  too  large  for  him. 
Delicate  in  physique,  with  little  twinkling  gray  eyes,  he 
watched  the  other  men  like  a  cat,  and  carelessly  twirled 
a  huge  emerald  ring  on  his  finger. 

In  his  soft,  cooing  accents,  he  followed  the  neat  exposi 
tion  of  the  new  trading  venture.  Around  them,  piles  of 
old  nautical  books,  obsolete  marine  instruments,  musty 
charts  and  maps,  and  boxes  of  papers  marked  "  J.  O." 
(in  a  long  series  of  numbered  years)  gave  an  air  of 
humdrum  respectability  to  the  gloomy  place. 

Riley  came  now  to  the  front  as  the  speaker.  The 
finest  old  Jamaica,  French  brandies,  and  Jose's  priceless 
cigars  decked  a  rusty-looking  sideboard. 

"  All  smuggled — here,"  softly  remarked  Jose",  as  he  did 
the  honors. 

After  an  hour's  conference,  foxy  Jose  Oliviera  lifted 
his  head,  his  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  voice  was  as  clear  as 
that  of  a  general. 

"  Gen'lemen,  I  now  understan'  you,  ver'  well.  I  have 
a  the  fastes'  boat  on  de  ocean,  mia  biga  schooner  Rest 
less — sometime  calla  La  Guayra — down  a  below.  Ah  ! 
my  fren'" — and  he  joyously  prodded  Riley,  who  winked 
— "  I  gotta  cargo  now  for  de  Spanish  main.  I  go  my 
islands.  I  go  a  Truxillo — an'  maybe  Havana  when  a 
come  back.  She  haul  in  the  stream  to-morrow  night. 
She  lay  in  da  Lower  Bay  an'  wait  the  last  mail"  from  New 
Orleans  an'  the  despatches.  I  make  a  de  clearance.  I 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  179 

give  a  the  orders  with  my  fren'  Riley,  an'  he  put  you  a 
party  on  board  on  his  tug.  She  take  a  the  boat  out  an' 
turn  a  loose.  Nothing  can  a  catch  a  the  Restless  when 
a  past  Barnegat.  I  have  all  the  comfort  for  de  lady. 
Now,  Riley,  I  look  a  to  you  for  the  whole  a  thing.  I 
keep  a  the  boat  ready  till  you  say  '  Go  ! '  Vamos  /  All 
a  right  !  "  He  paused  and  sparingly  touched  his  three- 
star  Hennessey. 

The  two  Americans  bowed. 

"  Now  what  a  I  get  for  the  voyage  ?  An'  I  take  a  de 
risk  lose  the  boat.  No  insurance  !  "  Jose  spoke  with 
the  keen  ring  of  avarice  in  his  silky  tones. 

Riley  and  Overton  hobnobbed  in  the  dusky  corner. 
In  five  minutes  Riley  said,  his  air  of  bar-room  loaferism 
vanishing  :  "  Ye'll  have  one-fifth  of  the  job,  Jose." 

"Vera  good!  I  am  a  satisfy.  Now,  my  fren',"  he 
said  to  Overton,  "  I  trust  da  Mr.  Riley.  We  old  fren's 
and  buen  amigos.  He  make  de  whole  bargain." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  the  deep-voiced  gambler. 

"  Vera  good  !  We  all  a  done.  The  ship  now  at  da 
order,  Mr.  Riley.  Shall  we  a  go  now  ? "  For  Jose  had 
the  cunning  indolence  and  weariness  of  detail  of  the 
natives  of  the  luxurious  Spanish  main. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Overton.  "Riley,"  he  began, 
"  I'm  all  satisfied,  but  I  don't  exactly  know  what  to  do 
with  this  fool  Cram.  You  suggested — at  sea"  (and 
his  voice  died  into  whispers) — "but"  (resuming  his 
ordinary  tone)  "  I  want  to  leave  him  stuck  for  the  whole 
affair." 

Riley  grinned.  "  Go  down  and  smoke  a  cigar  on  the 
sidewalk.  I'll  pump  Jose"  alone.  He's  a  divil  for  this 
kind  of  work.  I'll  pull  the  blinds  down.  Whin  I  raise 
them,  you  can  come  up.  We'll  be  done  then." 

Overton  anxiously  paced  the  dark  streets,  stumbling 
over  loose  coils  of  rope,  stray  anchors,  and  abandoned 
capstans — disjecta,  membra  of  many  old  ships.  He 


l8o  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

watched  eagerly  until  the  bright  light  streamed  from  the 
windows  once  more. 

A  hellish  look  of  triumph  shone  on  Riley's  battered 
face,  as  he  opened  the  door  to  Tom. 

"D'ye  see  this  thing?"  said  Riley,  holding  out  an 
innocent-looking  package,  like  a  half-pound  of  tea.  *. 

"  Well  ?  "    Overton  queried. 

"  This  is  the  darn'  loco  weed  thim  ould  Mexican  Injins 
use  for  their  funny  work.  It  did  the  business  for  the 
Impress  Carlotta  an'  poor  old  President  Juarez.  It  can 
be  put  into  a  bath,  or  in  soup,  or  in  a  chap's  drink.  Ye 
can  kill  him — or  drive  him  slow  mad — or  ye  make  him  a 
dazed  fool  for  years.  It  takes  away  all  the  beggar's 
mimory.  It's  the  divil's  own  stuff." 

"And  what  will  we  do  with  it?"  Overton  asked,  in  a 
bewildered  way. 

"We'll  fix  your  man  Cram  with  this.  I'm  to  boil  this 
down  for  an  hour.  Then  I'll  fix  three  bottles — warr  of 
rum,  wan  of  brandy,  and  wan  of  good  whiskey.  It'll  be 
three  kinds — full  power,  half,  and  quarter.  The  wan 
will  kill,  the  other  make  him  loony  forever,  and  the  third 
will  lay  him  out  for  two  or  three  years.  D'ye  see  ? " 
And  Riley  grinned. 

"I  see  now,"  said  the  gambler,  the  fires  of  hell  gleam 
ing  in  his  eyes. 

"  Now,  here's  Jose's  plan,"  said  Riley.  "  Go  through 
the  whole  business.  We'll  have  yere  lady  on  board  all 
right.  When  the  tug  takes  you  two  off,  I'll  go  wid  ye. 
We'll  give  the  lad  two  or  three  drinks  of  No.  3.  I'll  keep 
that  bottle,  and  we'll  bring  him  back  ashore  when  I  cast 
ye  off  at  the  Hook,  I'll  just  dump  him  off  on  the  North 
River,  somewhere,  an'  the  police  will  find  him  an'  run 
him  in  for  a  drunk.  He's  got  to  stan'  the  racket,  an' 
we'll  put  some  of  the  stolen  stuff  in  his  pocket." 

"  Will  the  drug  keep  him  crazy  for  a  couple  of  years, 
surely  ?  Can  we  really  trust  it  ?  "  Tom  asked  nervously. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  l8l 

"  I  bet  da  life  on  a  him,"  Jose  quietly  said.  "  I  make 
da  custom  man  an'  da  bad  man  sicka  down  below  with 
him.  I  take  da  risk.  He  never  fail.  I  go  with  Riley 
and  see  him  fix  a  da  medicine." 

"Then  we're  all  done,"  said  Overton  rising. 

"  I  give  a  Mr.  Riley  to-morrow,  one  paper,  an'  tell  a 
you  all  the  thing  you  want  a  take  for  the  trip,  for  a  you 
an'  da  lady.  He  can  a  get  all  tha  private  goods.  No 
body  see  you,"  said  the  thoughtful  Jose,  shaking  hands 
over  the  nightcap. 

"  Now  a  !  You  do  a  the  worka  !  Evera  ten  minutes 
I  have  news  my  amigo  Riley.  We  have  a  all  ready." 

And  the  conclave  of  three  dark  birds  of  night  broke 
up. 

"  Overton,  that  man's  a  smoky  jewel,  I'm  thinkin'," 
said  Riley,  "  an'  he's  dead  square." 

"Bravo  !  Riley,"  said  Overton,  his  coolness  now  abso 
lute  on  the  eve  of  the  great  attempt.  "  As  for  Cram,  if 
the  thing  don't  work,  I'll  strip  him  and  heave  him  over 
board.  They'll  think  he's  got  into  some  deadfall. 
There's  many  a  man-jack  goes  that  same  way,  here," 
said  Riley,  reflectively,  "  many  a  one." 

"  All  right,  old  man  !  "  said  Tom,  clapping  him  on  the 
shoulder.  "  I  would  sooner  he'd  wander  around  and 
make  a  fool  of  himself.  It  will  mystify  the  police." 

"So  it  will,  and  be  d d  to  them,"  energetically 

cried  Riley,  who  despised  the  whole  M.  P.  force,  save 
those  particular  roundsmen  who  threw  all  refractory  cus 
tomers  out  of  his  hotel,  and  clubbed  them,  or  "  ran  them 
in,"  at  his  own  royal  will.  Libations  of  his  best  drink, 
and  handfuls  of  his  best  cigars  rewarded  them,  as  well 
as  occasional  liberal  pecuniary  reminders. 

When  the  clocks  struck  high  noon,  Thomas  Overton, 
with  great  gravity,  conferred  at  the  Insurance  Club  with 
Morton  over  his  impending  departure  for  Denver.  There 
was  a  solemn  air  of  almost  fatherly  gravity  in  Overton's 


I2  DELILAH   OF   HAfcLEM. 

manner.  His  preparations  for  the  real  flight  were  all 
made  now.  Riley  had  busied  himself  with  passports, 
supplies,  and  details.  The  tug  was  under  control.  The 
customs  papers  were  issued  for  the  trading  voyage  of 
the  splendid  yacht-built  schooner  Restless,  lying  now  in 
the  Lower  Bay. 

Gravely  Overton  inquired  of  all  the  details  of  the 
approaching  liquidation.  His  own  account  had  been 
drawn  down  to  a  mere  trifling  balance. 

11 1  leave  my  securities  under  your  personal  care,  Mor 
ton,"  he  said,  with  friendly  feeling.  "  I  hope  this  will 
be  my  last  trip  out  to  Denver.  I  am  quite  tired  of 
running  out  West.  I  will  telegraph  you  privately,  as 
we  have  agreed,  for  any  personal  matters.  On  the  firm's 
business,  for  my  account,  I  will  despatch  directly  to  the 
bank.  Now  I  have  a  great  deal  to  do,  and  we  will  now 
go  over  and  see  Mrs.  Ashton.  Our  train  leaves  at 
8.30." 

Morton's  heart  was  heavy  within  him.  That  very 
morning  he  had  stolen  over  and,  with  Marie  sobbing  on 
his  breast,  had  tasted  the  bitter  sorrows  of  parting  ! 
Lovers'  woes  are  heavy  burdens. 

"  But  you  will  soon  come  back  to  me,  my  queen,  my 
darling,  my  own,"  Morton  begged  at  her  knees. 

She  promised,  with  false  smiles  shining  through  her 
easily  controlled  tears.  "  I  must  go  south  on  my  busi 
ness,  with  Mr.  Overton.  I  have  no  real  excuse  to  stay. 
I  cannot.  But,  as  soon  as  he  leaves  for  Denver,  I  will 
come  back  to  you,  dearest,  at  once.  I  can  then  find 
social  excuses.  I  only  care  to  keep  him  out  of  the  way 
till  you  are  settled  in  your  affairs.  But  where  shall  I 
come  to,  Harry  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Come  to  the  .Hotel  Royal,  and  register  as  you  wish 
to.  Use  any  name.  Telegraph  me.  If  Burnham  should 
trace  you,  simply  ignore  him.  Send  a  messenger,  in  the 
same  way,  for  me." 


DELILAH   OF    HARLEM.  183 

With  a  heart  almost  bursting  with  anguish,  Morton 
was  forced  to  repeat  a  formal  visit  in  the  afternoon  with 
Overton.  Each  of  the  three  liars  was  a  credit  to  the 
modern  school  of  Satan,  for  Marie  Ashton  smiled  gra 
ciously  as  Morton  said,  in  final  salutation  :  "  I  hope  to 
meet  you  again,  madam,  on  your  return." 

Overton's  eyes  gleamed,  as  the  goddess  murmured  : 
"  With  pleasure." 

For  it  was  well  understood  that  the  jealous  raid  of 
Morton's  wife  had  ended  in  a  reconciliation. 

As  Harry  Morton  retraced  his  steps  and  sought  his 
home,  where  Claire,  half  placated,  waited  him,  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  dreamed  of  holding  Marie  Ashton  once 
more  to  his  ardent  breast. 

Fool  and  blind  !  Before  his  foot  crossed  his  doorstep, 
Marie  Ashton  was  ensconced  in  an  obscure  water-side 
hotel  in  Brooklyn,  whence  she  was  to  brave  fate,  under  the 
guidance  of  desperate  Tom  Overton,  in  strange  far  lands. 

"  It's  not  very  fancy  here,  but  in  two  more  days  we 
will  be  on  the  laughing  blue  water.  You  are  much  safer 
here  than  in  the  Fifth  Avenue,"  he  reassured  her.  "  Now, 
wait  for  me.  I'll  come  back." 

It  was  near  midnight  that  night  when  Overton,  with 
a  strangely  preoccupied  manner,  entered  her  rooms  once 
again.  His  brain  was  filled  with  busy  plans.  His  heart's 
blood  was  curdled  with  blackest  thoughts.  All  was  now 
in  readiness.  He  dared  not  lisp  even  to  her  the  nameless 
deed.  He  deceived  her  craftily,  as  she  did  him.  He 
had  verified  all  his  preparations.  The  hell-brew  of  Jose 
Oliviera  was  now  ready.  The  needed  supplies  were  all 
on  board.  And  even  Marie  Ashton 's  plain  travelling 
dresses  were  provided  to  disguise  her  transcendent  loveli 
ness  as  far  as  might  be  necessary. 

"  To-morrow  night  will  be  your  last  in  New  York  for 
many  years,"  Overton  said,  as  he  threw  his  tired  form 
down  on  an  easy  lounge.  "  Think  of  anything  you  want 


184  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

before  I  leave  to-morrow,  as  I  shall  need  to  use  every 
moment.  When  I  see  you  again,  it  will  be  on  the  yacht. 
Riley  will  take  you  and  the  maid  off  on  Friday.  I'll  be 
with  you,  Friday  or  Saturday  night.  Then,  ho  !  for  the 
blue  water,"  cried  Overton,  his  old  sailor  days  returning. 

"  Tom,  for  God's  sake  !  have  a  care  what  you  do. 
Take  no  desperate  risks."  Marie  was  kneeling  at  his 
side. 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right !  The  Devil  takes  care  of  his  own. 
You're  a  good  girl,  Kate,"  he  said,  almost  fondly.  "  You 
must  trust  in  me.  I'm  dead  game." 

He  was  fool  enough  to  think  she  was  really  solicitous 
for  him.  Alas !  for  Overton's  mental  vision.  It  was  her 
own  liberty,  her  own  jewels,  her  own  private  hoard,  and 
the  reversion  of  the  joint  capital  which  he  had,  in  bulk, 
given  her  that  she  really  feared  for,  for  the  gate  of  free 
dom  was  almost  in  sight. 

"After  all,  they  can't  fix  anything  on  me,"  Marie  re 
flected,  gazing  on  Overton,  sleeping  like  a  log  on  the 
lounge.  "  But  public  exposure  !  "  She  shuddered  as 
she  closed  her  deep-hued  eyes  in  a  heavy  sleep. 

Abel  Cram,  pacing  up  and  down  in  his  squalid  room 
on  the  other  side  of  the-  East  River,  whose  bosom  re 
flected  myriads  of  twinkling  stars,  feared  the  coming  day 
light.  He  trembled  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  He 
knew  the  desperate  plan  at  last,  in  nearly  all  its  skeleton. 

"  I  dare  not  recoil.  He  would  strangle  me  like  a  dog. 
It's  liberty  and  riches,  or  prison  and  ignominy.  I  must 
go  on  to  the  end." 

Thanksgiving  Eve — crisp  and  clear.  The  sounds  of 
the  church  bells  rang  in  the  thin  air.  Wall  Street — 
Mammon's  highway — was  silent  and  deserted.  The 
shadows  dropped  deeper  over  many  giant  fortresses  of 
finance,  with  every  slowly  passing  hour.  Dusky  shades 
crept  around  hallway  and  recessed  door.  From  the 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  185 

humble  home  to  the  millionnaire's  gilded  palace — all 
New  York  waited  for  its  holiday. 

Flanagan,  the  sturdy  old  watchman,  sat  bare-headed, 
by  his  little  fire  in  the  back  room,  from  whence  he  could 
see  every  entrance  of  the  bank,  and  watch  its  great 
closed  steel  vault  doors.  His  dark  lantern  was  beside 
him,  its  shade  turned  over  the  bright  light.  Pistol  in 
pocket,  and  billy  at  hand,  he  watched  over  the  locked 
treasures  of  the  firm.  The  darkness  deepened.  The 
silence  became  more  profound.  A  faint  rumble  of  a 
passing  carriage  now  and  then  roused  him,  as  he  dreamed 
of  the  days  when  he  went  to  the  front  with  the  Sixty- 
Ninth. 

"  I'll  have  a  real  pleasant  day  to-morrow,"  he  thought, 
"  with  the  children  around  me." 

While  he  half-slumbered,  at  the  South  Ferry  docks 
the  swift  tug,  the  Faugh  a  Ballagh,  lay,  her  bright  fires 
gleaming,  and  a  full  head  of  steam  on.  She  had  been 
down  the  bay  and  had  boarded  the  saucy  schooner  Rest 
less,  dancing  now  on  the  smooth  waters  of  New  York 
Bay,  sheltered  by  Sandy  Hook. 

Mine  host  Riley — his  burly  form  muffled  beyond 
recognition — -was  swiftly  pacing  the  short  dock  slip,  at 
which  the  tug  was  moored.  A  slim,  graceful  form 
beside  him,  with  an  ever-red  danger  signal  of  a  lighted 
cigar,  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Jos£  Oliviera,  the  swell 
Spanish  shipping  merchant,  whose  pet  fast  schooner 
now  was  ready  for  sea. 

Passing  loungers  looked  not  their  way,  for,  night  and 
day,  dozens  of  nimble  tugs  lie  there,  ready  for  instant 
service  in  any  sudden  emergency,  or  for  quick  trips 
promising  an  unusual  profit.  The  conservative  police  of 
the  street  were  genially  sampling  the  holiday  bowls  of 
various  water-front  saloons.  On  this  Thanksgiving  Eve, 
all  the  wayfarers  hurried  blindly  along,  somewhere  seek 
ing  for  social  recreation  or  friendly  cheer. 


186  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Will  Tom  never  come  ? "  muttered  Riley,  as  the 
distant  clock  struck  nine.  "  Can  he  have  failed  ?  Ah  ! 
he's  never  the  man  to  fail.  Maybe  he's  had  tough  luck." 

While  Riley  fumed  and  Jose  Oliviera's  eyes  gleamed 
like  black  diamonds — his  cigar  lighting  up  his  great 
emerald  ring  with  livid  green  flashes — as  he  nervously 
puffed  the  rich  smoke  away,  Abel  Cram,  with  a  pallid 
face,  tapped  at  the  bank  door  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co. 
in  Wall  Street. 

Around  the  corner,  in  the  dark — not  fifty  yards  away — 
a  carriage  with  two  muffled-up  men  on  the  box  was 
standing  in  the  gloom  in  the  cold.  Yet  these  men  were 
eagerly  straining  every  nerve. 

A  few  yards  behind  Cram,  with  a  step  as  light  as  a 
tiger-cat,  Tom  Overton  moved  as  a  haunting  shadow. 
By  a  singular  prevision  of  dampness,  Overton  wore  heavy 
rubber  overshoes.  His  tread  was  noiseless.  Darting 
into  a  recess,  the  gambler  concealed  himself  near  the 
door,  as  Cram  rattled  at  the  bank  door. 

"  Ah  !  it's  you,  Mr.  Cram.  Come  in,  sir,"  said  old 
Flanagan.  The  watchman  was  not  startled,  for  Abel 
Cram  often  came  down  for  a  paper,  or  on  some  evening 
bit  of  extra  work.  The  great  blue  shades  were  pulled 
down  over  the  front  windows.  The  solid  panelled  inside 
shutters  were  fastened. 

"  It's  a  crisp  night,  sir,"  Flanagan  cheerfully  said. 

"Yes  !  Pretty  near  Thanksgiving,"  replied  Abel,  start 
ing  at  the  cold  sound  of  his  own  voice.  "  I  wish  to  get 
some  papers  out  of  my  desk,  John,"  Cram  quietly  said, 
his  nerve  returning.  "  I'll  not  be  very  long." 

"  Shall  I  make  you  a  light,  sir  ?  "  the  dutiful  watch 
man  asked,  for  only' a  glimmering  gaslight  in  the  back 
room  lit  up  the  bank,  with  its  ponderous  high  desks  bro 
ken  up  by  their  many  curves  and  angles. 

"  Oh,  no — I  can  easily  find  them,"  the  head  clerk 
answered.  He  busied  himself  at  his  drawer  a  moment. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  187 

"  Flanagan,  get  me  a  couple  of  large  sheets  of  wrapping 
paper  and  some  twine  to  tie  these  things  up,"  Cram 
slowly  said. 

"  I  have  some  in  my  closet,"  the  unsuspecting  man 
replied  ;  and,  taking  a  candle,  he  went  to  a  little  room 
in  the  rear  of  the  bank. 

Like  an  ominous  black  shadow,  Tom  Overton  glided 
swiftly  in  at  the  open  front  door,  and  concealed  himself 
near  the  narrow  doorway  through  which  the  poor  old 
watchman  must  return.  In  his  hand  a  long  flexible  club 
was  swinging.  It  was  the  leaden  billy.  As  the  porter 
came  out — candle  in  one  hand  and  holding  the  papers  in 
the  other— Overton,  springing  up,  swung  the  murderous 
flexible  club,  and  felled  the  unsuspecting  old  man  with  a 
mighty  blow. 

"  Quick  now  !  "  whispered  Tom.  "  Lock  the  front 
door."  Cram  sprang  to  it.  "  Now  get  his  keys  out  of 
his  pocket."  It  was  instantly  done.  "  Help  me  to  drag 
him  into  that  closet." 

The  senseless  man  was  hauled  in,  and  securely  locked 
in  the  porter's  locker.  A  loose  handkerchief  over  his 
mouth,  and  a  few  turns  of  strong  cord — binding  his 
wrists — ended  the  cowardly  work. 

Overton  now  handed  Cram  the  keys.  "  Now  jump  to 
the  vault.  Don't  be  flurried." 

The  supreme  moment  was  at  hand.  Abel  whispered, 
his  voice  thrilling  Overton's  marrow  :  "  It's  all  right. 
The  time-lock's  good."  And  the  two  villains  easily 
swung  the  oiled  doors  of  the  outer  vault,  betrayed  by 
the  time-lock. 

"  Now,"  whispered  Overton,  "work  this  combination." 
The  cool  arch-villain  read  off  letter  by  letter  and  figure 
by  figure.  All  was  a  dead  silence.  Their  hearts  beat 
like  trip-hammers  as  the  last  turn  was  made,  and,  the 
knobs  turning,  laid  the  heaped-up  riches  of  the  bank  at 
their  mercy. 


l88  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Now,  for  God's  sake  !  make  haste,"  Overton  hissed. 

The  outer  doors  were  swung  nearly  to,  and  by  the 
faint  light  of  a  half-opened  slit  in  the  dark-lantern, 
Overton  dropped  package  after  package  of  bonds  and 
bills  into  the  long  rubber  bags,  which  had  been  carried 
hidden  in  their  loose  heavy  overcoats.  In  five  minutes 
all  the  available  treasure  was  in  their  grasp. 

"  Is  this  all  the  bonds  ?  "  Overton  whispered. 

"  Yes,"  Abel  answered  huskily. 

"  And  all  the  large  currency  ?  " 

"  All  but  the  small  change,"  the  cringing  thief  cried. 

"  Swing  the  doors,"  Overton  murmured.  The  com 
bination  was  put  on.  "  Now  to  the  front !  Did  you  get 
the  lists  of  these  bonds  ?  " 

"Yes,  here's  the  two  papers,"  Cram  shiveringly  said. 

"  Then  turn  off  the  time-lock  for  two  or  three  days." 

Cram's  nervous  fingers  flew  like  lightning  at  the 
work.  Swinging  the  great  front  doors,  they  neared 
the  bank  door — each  with  a  loose  overcoat  covering 
the  bags. 

"  Lock  the  front  door,"  was  Overton's  last  word,  as  he 
blew  out  the  dark-lantern.  The  coast  was  clear.  No 
sound!  No  passers-by!  "Go  first,"  Overton  calmly 
said,  as  Cram  quietly  walked  around  the  corner  and 
entered  the  waiting  carriage. 

Overton,  with  devilish  sang-froid,  calmly  followed  a 
few  paces  after.  The  vehicle  moved  slowly  till  the  near 
est  corner  was  turned,  then  the  horses  smartly  trotted 
to  the  South  Ferry  pier.  Without  a  word,  the  two  thieves 
hastened  on  the  tug.  Riley  and  Jose  intuitively  sprang 
on  board.  The  carriage  was  already  blocks  away. 

Clang  !  went  the  little  bell.  The  swift  tug  dashed  out 
into  the  gloom.  In  the  cabin,  Riley,  his  face  pale  as 
ashes,  looked  at  Overton,  who  was  gloomily  speechless. 
He  silently  pointed  to  the  three  bulky  bags.  Jose  Oli- 
viera,  with  a  meaning  smile,  nodded  to  Abel.  "  My 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  189 

amigo,  your  a  friend  vera  tired.  Take  a  now  a  good  a 
drink.  Make  you  feel  bueno.  " 

Overton's  eyes  gleamed,  as  Abel  greedily  poured  down 
his  throat  the  generous  glass  handed  him. 

"  Have  a  some,  Mr.  Overton,"  said  Jose. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Tom,  unscrewing  a  huge  flask 
from  a  coat  pocket.  "  I've  got  a  little  drop  here,  a  friend 
gave  me  for  good  luck."  Overton  trusted  no  accomplices. 

Jos£  smiled  quietly,  and  Riley  roared.  Some  hidden 
joke  amused  him. 

The  Faugh  a  Ballagh  was  now  racing  along  for  a  man's 
life.  She  fairly  leaped  through  the  water.  As  the  little 
steamer  neared  the  Lower  Bay,  three  red  lights  were 
hoisted  at  her  flagstaff. 

Abel  Cram  rose,  tried  to  walk,  and  fell  back  stagger 
ing.  "  I  guess  I'm—  "  and  his  head  fell.  The  three 
watchful  friends  laid  him  on  a  leather  couch.  His  eyes 
were  now  glazed,  and  his  hands  tightly  clinched. 

"  I  guess  he's  sea-sick  !  "  Riley  remarked,  with  a  quiet 
wink.  "  Did  you  get  it  all,  Tom  ?  "  he  said. 

"  All  but  the  chicken  feed,"  Overton  replied. 

"  Any  trouble  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  Overton  answered,  lighting  a  cigar. 

"  And  the  watchman  ?  "     Riley  looked  serious. 

Overton  made  the  motion  of  a  swift  blow  as  he  handed 
back  to  Riley  his  leaden  life-preserver. 

"By  the  way,  I  forgot  something,"  said  Tom,  and  he 
approached  Abel,  who  was  now  senseless.  Taking  the 
bank  door  key  and  porter's  keys  from  his  pockets,  he 
tossed  them  overboard  from  the  little  window. 

"  Hello  there  !  Throw  us  a  line,"  shouted  the  mate  as 
the  captain  rounded  the  Faugh  a  Ballagh  up  beside  a 
magnificent  schooner.  The  sailors  were  already  strain 
ing  at  the  schooner's  windlass.  Overton,  Jose",  and  Riley 
sprang  aboard  the  pretty  craft.  The  bundles  were  not 
forgotten.  Cram  was  tumbled  on  board  also. 


190  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Riley  called  out  sharply  :  "  Now,  Captain,  look  lively. 
Get  out  your  towlines."  In  five  minutes  the  Restless, 
her  great  gleaming  sails  hoisted,  was  swiftly  passing  out 
into  the  open  seaway,  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour. 
Locked  in  the  pantry  room  of  the  schooner,  Abel  Cram 
lay  like  a  log. 

One  wild  embrace  told  Marie  Ashton  the  story,  as  she 
fled  into  the  separate  cabin,  where,  with  her  maid,  she 
had  lingered  for  hours.  Her  eagle  eyes  watched  every 
move  of  the  men  around  the  table. 

At  the  round  table  in  the  main  cabin  of  the  schooner, 
with  every  external  aperture  closed,  Overton  swiftly 
divided  the  plunder.  Bonds  and  cash  were  piled  up  in 
five  equal  parts.  Jose  Oliviera — his  face  gleaming  in 
triumph — replaced  his  own  share  in  one  of  the  bags. 
Riley,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  concealed  his  in  another. 

Overton,  with  conscious  pride,  dropped  two  parts  in 
his  sack  :  one  for  Belle  Marie — one  for  Tom. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Overton,  "here's  the  only 
lists  of  these  bonds  in  existence — one  for  the  bank,  and 
one  for  old  Wise.  I  will  copy  the  numbers  in  my  note 
book,  and  destroy  these."  In  five  minutes  it  was  done. 
He  tore  the  originals  to  tatters.  The  fragments  flew 
away  on  the  night  wind,  tossed  from  the  little  window. 
"That  fool  lying  there  told  me  there  were  no  others. 
They  have  all  been  charged  up,  and  these  two  lists  made 
to  check  up  the  registry.  We  have  only  one  thing  to  do. 
Riley,  take  five  or  six  hundred  dollars  of  this  money  to 
stuff  that  poor  fool's  pockets.  See  that  it  gets  there," 
he  said,  with  a  devil's  laugh,  in  which  all  joined. 
Riley  made  a  selection. 

"That's  enough,"  he  said  ;  "we'll  not  throw  away  our 
hard-earned  money."    The  three  thieves  laughed  merrily. 
And  Marie  Ashton 's  eyes  and  ears  were  the  only  wit 
ness  of  the  loot  of  the  bank.     She  called  the  negro  maid 
to  her  side.     "  Watch  them  !  "  she  whispered. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  19! 

"  Now  for  this  last  lot ! "  Abel  Cram's  share  of  the 
plunder  was  then  divided  equally  among  the  three. 

The  tug  bell  rang  loudly  now  for  slowing  down.  The 
Restless  was  in  fair  seaway. 

"  We're  getting  out  to  sea."  The  two  confederates 
rose. 

"Ye're  all  right  now,  Tom,"  said  Riley.  "Ye're  a 
shinm'  jewel  and  a  howly  wonder.  God  bless  ye  ! " 
cried  the  battered-faced  thief. 

"  Don't  forget  to  throw  that  fellow  ashore,  'way  up 
the  North  River,"  Overton  said,  as  Cram  was  lugged 
off  to  the  tug.  His  pockets  had  been  carefully  exam 
ined. 

"Oh  !  he's  done  up  for — forever.  He'll  be  an  idyit 
all  his  days,"  brutally  answered  Riley.  "I'll  have  him 
stumbled  over,  and  *  run  in,'  in  an  hour  or  two.  We'll 
watch  over  him.  If  he  shows  an  ugly  sign — overboard 
he  goes." 

"  I  make  a  the  good  look  at  a  him,"  cried  Jose. 
"  Carajo !  he  never  talk  any  more." 

"  Well,  here  goes ! "  cried  Overton,  as  his  friends 
drained  the  last  of  his  own  flask,  and  clambered  nimbly 
aboard  the  tug. 

The  dainty  Restless,  with  every  sail  set,  was  now 
racing  along  like  a  great  white-winged  ocean-bird,  past 
Sandy  Hook. 

The  little  tug  puffed  and  strained  to  keep  up.  With  a 
last  yell,  "  He's  all  right  !  "  Riley's  voice  died  away  as 
the  tug  dropped  astern.  Soon  the  tug's  three  red  lights 
were  lowered,  and  she  faded  in  the  darkness.  And  Marie 
Ashton  was  on  blue  water  with  a  new  fortune. 

Overton  glanced  critically  at  the  straining  sails,  took  a 
look  at  the  foam-wreaths  dancing  by.  "  Twelve  knots, 
by  heaven  ! "  he  cried,  and,  light-hearted,  went  below 
to  embrace  "  Colorado  Kate  " — the  mystic  Delilah  of 
Harlem. 


192  DELILAH   OF   HARLEM. 

His  arm  was  round  the  fair  woman's  waist,  as  he 
called  for  a  bottle  of  wine,  to  the  success  of  the  trip. 

"  Katie,  my  own  brave  girl  !  you're  the  only  woman  I 
ever  knew  worthy  of  me.  You're  a  grand  one.  There's 
nearly  one  hundred  and  eighteen  thousand  dollars  of 
Government  bonds  there,  and  sixty-five  thousand  almost 
in  good  Treasury  notes.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Now,  the  world  is  ours  !  " 

The  fair  wanton  on  his  knee  laughed  merrily,  as  he 

pledged  :  "  Here's  to  Mr.  Henry  Morton.  He's  ad d 

fool." 

And  out  into  the  southern  skies,  waiting  the  rosy  dawn 
gilding  the  bluest  seas,  the  dashing  Restless  dashed  away 
— her  crew  ignorant  of  their  quest — with  Claire  Morton'g 
fortune  in  the  hands  of  her  faithless  husband's  still  more 
faithless  mistress. 


CHAPTER  X. 

I 

THE    INSPECTOR    BAFFLED.       THE  CRUISE    OF    THE  "REST 
LESS."     MAXWELL'S  CLEW.     MORTON'S  GUEST. 

"  GOOD-MORNING  !  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence,"  gayly 
laughed  Overton,  as  he  awakened  the  lovely  sleeper  late 
next  day  in  her  cabin  on  the  schooner.  Overton  had 
already  made  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  captain 
and  his  mates,  whose  own  cabins  were  forward.  The 
saucy  schooner  was  tearing  along  near  the  Capes  of  the 
Delaware,  with  every  sail  set,  and,  staggering  under  her 
cloud  of  snowy  canvas,  she  looked  like  a  Queen's  Cup 
winner. 

Marie  Ashton  rubbed  her  eyes  and  laughed.  "  Am  I 
not  dreaming  ? " 

"  No,  you  are  not.  After  I  send  you  in  your  coffee, 
you'll  see  what  a  dainty  sea-bird  is  bearing  you  on. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  193 

Then  we'll  have  a  sailor's  breakfast.  Meanwhile,  look 
at  that,  and  don't  forget  your  new  name." 

Overtoil  tossed  her  a  full,  properly  made  out  U.  S. 
passport  in  the  name  of  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence.  He 
handed  her  his  own — "  Robert  Randall." 

"  These  are  our  new  names,  good  for  foreign  parts 
and  the  wilds,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  You  must  not  be 
too  affectionate  in  your  manner,  for  you  must  meet  the 
three  officers  this  morning.  They  do  not  know  our  real 
intimacy.  You  can  fondle  me  in  private,"  Tom  archly 
said.  "  We  must  not  create  any  suspicions.  You  see, 
this  boat  has  to  return  to  New  York  in  two  or  three 
months,  after  a  trading  round.  Don't  forget,  now,  and 
call  me  '  Overton.'  Make  that  yellow  fool  understand 
this,  also." 

"  All  right,  Robert,"  the  blonde  sea-queen  merrily 
replied.  "  How  did  you  get  these  official  documents  ? 
They  are  invaluable." 

"  Money  will  do  anything,  nowadays,"  Tom  profoundly 
remarked,  with  the  air  of  a  hereditary  capitalist.  "  We 
only  needed  money." 

"And  now  we  have  lots  of  it,"  merrily  laughed  Marie, 
as  she  held  up 'a  rosy  finger.  "  Leave  me  a  little  while, 
Robert,  and  let  Fanny  dress  me.  I  know  I'll  surely  look 
like  a  nautical  fright !  "  Overton  smiled,  as  he  disap 
peared,  with  a  last  warning  admonition.  His  cup  of  joy 
was  running  over. 

Two  hours  later,  when  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence  was 
presented  to  Captain  Jonas  Skinner,  the  bronzed  Yankee 
sailor  said,  as  this  lovely  apparition  graced  the  deck  : 
"  Madam,  we'll  surely  have  a  lucky  voyage."  It  was  a 
true  sailor's  compliment. 

"  How  delightful !  "  cried  Marie,  clapping  her  jewelled 

hands,  as  she  surveyed  the  sapphire  sea — the  blue  sky 

flecked  here  and  there  with  feathery  clouds,  and  looming 

far  away  the  faint  blue  lines  of  the  Capes  of  the  Dela- 

13 


IQ4  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

ware.  A  superb  breeze  filled  all  the  great  yacht's  sails. 
Captain  Jonas  Skinner  set  out  all  the  racing  canvas 
which  the  splendid  yacht  schooner  could  stagger  under. 
Flying  along  like  a  great  white  ocean  bird,  she  tore 
through  the  sparkling  blue  at  fifteen  knots  an  hour. 
Jonas  sat  whistling  merrily  on  his  white  quarter-deck. 

"  Madam,"  said  Captain  Jonas,  with  pardonable 
pride,  "  there's  not  a  thing  but  an  ocean  greyhound  could 
catch  us  now.  I'll  defy  any  cr£ft  bearing  sticks  and 
spreading  sails  to  overhaul  us." 

Marie  and  her  maid  busied  themselves  in  arranging  a 
comfortable  nook,  while  Captain  Jonas  called  Mr.  Rob 
ert  Randall  below  for  a  business  conversation.  Jose's 
secret  orders  were  usually  opened  off  shore. 

Skipper  Jonas  Skinner  was  a  stalwart,  hard-featured 
Yankee  of  forty-five,  and  every  inch  a  sailor.  For  ten 
years  he  had  always  sailed  Jose  Oliviera's  crack  trader. 
Jonas  was  trusty  as  steel.  His  boyhood  was  spent  on  a 
fishing  schooner  ;  schooled  as  a  lad  in  the  romantic  Span 
ish  main,  he  roved  and  traded  the  blue  Caribbean  till,  as 
commander,  he  became  Jose  Oliviera's  right-hand  man. 
Rumor  credited  him  with  a  half-interest  in  the  peerless 
Restless,  which  was  the  chosen  craft  for  all  the  most 
desperate  ventures  of  "  Oliviera  &  Co.,"  that  mysterious 
firm  having  secret  relation  with  Cuban  generals,  Cen 
tral  American  presidents,  Key  West  smugglers,  political 
refugees,  and  Latin  revolutionists  all  over  the  Spanish 
main. 

Over  a  glass  of  prime  Jamaica,  Jonas  Skinner  made 
known  his  private  orders  to  his  passenger.  "  There's 
my  letter  from  Don  Jose.  I  know  you  have  a  duplicate. 
Now,  sir,  the  boat's  yours,  under  these  orders.  I  want 
your  lady  to  feel  this  craft  her  home,  and  I'll  race  you 
down  below  Key  West  in  nine  days,  if  this  wind  holds. 
When  we  get  down  there  I'll  have  another  talk  with 
you.  If  you  want  a  little  run  through  the  islands,  we'll 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  195 

try  and  please  the  lady.  So,  shipmate,  here's  my  hand. 
I  see  you're  an  old  sailor." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I've  been  wet  in  blue  water,"  the  newly 
christened  Robert  Randall  laughed.  "  I'm  a  little  heavy, 
though,  now,  to  reeve  in  your  flag  halliards.  I  could  do 
it  once." 

Overton  smiled  in  perfect  self-satisfaction  as  he  walked 
back  to  the  quarter  deck.  "  What  a  racket  there  is  in  the 
bank  to-day." 

The  cruel  gambler  never  gave  a  thought  to  poor  old 
Flanagan,  lying  with  his  skull  crushed,  and  tied  up  like  a 
dog  in  the  porter's  dark  room.  His  flinty  heart  was  not 
moved  by  the  probable  fate  of  wretched  Abel  Cram,  wan 
dering  alone  and  demented  in  the  streets  of  New  York, 
under  the  baneful  spell  of  that  mysterious  Aztec  poison. 
"  He  won't  squeal.  Serves  him  right,  the  ass !  "  Overton 
chuckled. 

With  the  easy  manner  of  a  man  used  to  every  foul 
intrigue  of  craft,  treachery,  or  violence,  Overton  trifled  on 
the  sunny  deck  with  beautiful  Marie  Ashton,  whispering 
to  her  :  "  This  is  better  than  our  old  days  of  'short  com 
mons  '  in  Leadville,  or  a  run  of  '  hard  luck '  at  New 
Orleans." 

Her  flashing  sapphire  eyes,  as  blue  as  the  dancing 
ripples  they  were  borne  away  on,  twinkled  merrily,  as 
she  whispered  :  "  Remember  your  dignity.  We  are  now 
capitalists  !  " 

Church  bells  were  ringing  in  New  York  City  as  the 
relief  watchman  stepped  up  the  bank  steps  on  Thanks 
giving  morning. 

"  Poor  old  Flanagan,  he's  had  a  hard  night.  Well,  he 
has  his  day  at  home,"  the  substitute  reflected.  All  was 
quiet.  The  doors  firmly  locked  !  In  an  instant,  with  his 
duplicate  key  he  entered.  Mystery  !  No  Flanagan  ! 
Calling  aloud,  the  day  watchman  obtained  no  reply. 


196  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

With  one  sharp  look  around,  he  sprang  and  touched 
the  hidden  electric  police-alarm  button.  "  I'm  thinking 
there's  some  devilment  here."  While  waiting  for  the 
police,  the  three  minutes  seemed  an  age.  All  over  the 
mystified  man  roved.  No  disturbance.  No  Flanagan  ! — 
11  By  the  powers  !  "  he  cried,  as  the  Sergeant  and  three 
policemen  sprang  up  the  steps.  "  Come  in  !  "  he  cried. 
"  There's  been  bad  work  here." 

"Lock  the  door,"  cried  the  Sergeant.  In  a  jiffy  the 
police  explored  the  place.  No  sign  of  any  struggle. 
The  vaults  were  locked.  Only  one  door  resisted  them. 
The  porter's  room  firmly  locked  !  "  Brandon  !  "  cried  the 
cool  Sergeant,  "  get  me  an  axe  from  the  fire  patrol.  Call 
in  the  Captain.  Send  a  cab  instantly  for  Mr.  Wise,  Mr. 
Morton,  and  Mr.  Burnham.  Bring  them  here  at  once. 
Keep  it  all  quiet.  Send  a  good  officer  with  each  cab. 
Start  out  the  cabs,  and  then  bring  me  the  axe." 

In  five  minutes  Brandon  was  back.  The  burly  Ser 
geant  made  the  hard-wood  doors  of  the  locked  closets 
yield  to  his  nervous  blows.  "He's  in  here!"  he  said. 
"  Chop  it  down,  quick.  Brandon,  get  away  for  the  ambu 
lance,  and  wire  the  Captain  to  come  here  at  once.  Now, 
boys,  get  that  door  down.  Peters,  jump  and  get  me  a 
bottle  of  good  brandy."  He  whispered  a  word  :  "  The 
nearest  square  place." 

In  three  minutes,  poor  unconscious  Flanagan  was  laid 
on  the  soft  padded  lounge  in  Morton's  office.  The  hand 
kerchief  gag  was  removed.  A  glass  of  brandy  was  soon 
forced  into  his  mouth.  He  groaned  and  moaned  in  pain. 
"  Leave  his  hands  tied  till  the  Captain  comes." 

In  a  half-hour  a  coterie  of  keen-eyed  men  were 
around  the  senseless  sufferer.  The  Captain  and  sur 
geon  looked  gravely  at  each  other  when  they  were  ad 
mitted. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  the  Sergeant  to  his  chief. 

"Why,  he's  been  sandbagged.     I   think    his  skull  is 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  197 

fractured,"  muttered  the  Captain,  his  finger  on  his  lip. 
The  surgeon  was  silently  busied  with  the  sufferer. 

Seth  Wise,  awaking  to  the  sound  of  early  bells, 
meditated  in  peace  !  A  jangle  of  his  door -bell  brought 
up  the  frightened  butler  with  a  stalwart  policeman. 

"  Mr.  Wise,"  said  the  officer,  "  your  night-watchman 
in  Wall  Street  has  been  assaulted.  We  fear  that  the 
bank  has  been  robbed  !  Come  at  once  !  1  have  a  cab 
here." 

Old  Seth  bounded  from  his  couch.  In  two  minutes 
the  coupe  was  whirling  down  town.  "  You  sent  out  for 
Morton  and  Burnham  ?  "  Seth  queried. 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  was  the  laconic  response.  An  hour  found 
all  the  three  members  of  the  firm  around  the  senseless 
man  ! 

In  charge  of  a  detective  and  the  police  surgeon,  poor 
Flanagan  was  borne  away  for  his  Thanksgiving  in  Belle- 
vue. 

"Send  some  sensible  person  up  to  his  house,"  thought 
fully  cried  old  Seth.  "  You  go,  O'Brien,"  he  said  to  the 
day  substitute.  "  Keep  his  family  quiet.  Here  !  "  he 
handed  O'Brien  a  large  bill.  "  Give  them  that  for 
Thanksgiving !  Say  the  old  man  will  be  back  soon. 
Had  some  business.  I'll  go  up  myself,  by  and  by. 
Now,  Mr.  Morton,  try  and  open  these  vaults  ! " 

Morton,  dazed,  and  unwilling  to  credit  his  eyes,  ap 
proached  the  doors.  "  I  suppose  Cram  set  the  time-lock 
for  Monday  morning,"  he  murmured.  "  Send  for  Cram  ! 
Get  him  at  once." 

"  Don't  you  know  how  it  is  set  ?  "  roared  old  Seth. 

"  I  have  only  one  combination  of  the  inner  doors.  The 
other  one  is — you  know  where  !  " 

"Captain!  send  a  cab  on  the  gallop  for  Cram," 
energetically  said  Seth  Wise.  "  Not  a  word  of  this  to  a 
soul  !  No  publicity,  till  I  see  the  Inspector  !  "  Morton 
gave  Cram's  address.  While  waiting,  the  police  officials 


198  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

examined  the  rooms.  Not  a  leaf  of  paper  seemed  dis 
placed. 

Police  Captain  Prescott  took  Seth  Wise  aside  in  this 
long  wait :  "  Mr.  Wise  !  This  thing  has  been  worked 
from  inside  the  bank  !  " 

Seth  bounded  from  his  chair :  "  My  God  !  You 
suspect— 

"  Nobody  yet !  "  said  the  cool  Captain.  "  I  have  just  sent 
for  the  Inspector  !  We  will  see.  You  will  find  some  of 
your  clerks  involved  in  this  !  " 

Seth  Wise  was  gloomy.  Morton  kept  silent,  eying 
the  whole  assembly.  Burnham  quietly  conversed  with 
Wise,  and  watched  Morton  keenly. 

In  a  half-hour  the  messengers  returned  :  "  Mr.  Cram 
was  not  at  home,  and  had  not  been  at  home  since 
the  morning  bank  hour  of  the  day  before  !  "  Fugitive 
or  thief — which  was  Abel  ? 

The  captain  looked  grave.  "  Better  give  me  a  good 
description  of  him,  and  I'll  ring  in  a  general  alarm.  He 
is  the  key  to  the  mystery !  " 

Over  Seth  Wise's  busy  mind  flashed  the  facts  of  the 
approaching  heavy  liquidation— the  unusual  cash  re 
serves,  the  purchased  bonds  :  the  knowledge  of  this  was 
alone  possessed  by  Cram  of  all  the  trusted  subordinates  ! 

"  He  may  have  been  murdered  !  "  Seth  slowly  said. 

The  Captain's  lip  curled,  as  he  walked  to  the  window 
and  lit  a  cigar.  "  Better  let  me  send  for  my  lock  ex 
perts,"  he  said.  "  We  can't  wait  till  Monday  for  that 
time-lock  to  run  off  !  " 

"  It's  a  very  good  idea.  Do  it  at  once  !  "  cried  Seth 
Wise.  The  experts  were  telephoned  for  to  report  im 
mediately  at  the  police  station. 

A  long  half-hour  elapsed.  A  bustle  arose  as  the 
grave-faced  Inspector  finally  entered,  and  was  followed 
by  the  cunning  smiths  summoned  by  the  Captain.  In 
five  minutes  the  experts  reported  :  "  Must  blow  the  time- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  199 

locks  off,  sir."  "  Go  ahead  !  "  said  the  Inspector,  as  Seth 
Wise  nodded.  The  Inspector's  quick  brain  conned  the 
whole  story.  "  Sergeant,  take  this  Abel  Cram's  descrip 
tion.  Go  and  have  all  New  York  stations  called  up 
for  news  of  any  such  man  !  Let  the  reports  be  sent  here 
till  I  leave  !  Disperse  that  crowd  of  loungers  !  "  For 
stragglers  were  gathering  on  the  street. 

In  a  half-hour  the  outer  doors  yielded  to  a  series  of 
explosions  aimed  at  the  time-locks  ! 

The  cashier,  brought  on  a  gallop,  now  entered  the 
room.  "  Now,  Mr.  Hastings,  you  can  tell  us  your -status 
at  close  of  bank  hour,"  the  Inspector  said. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  wondering  official,  his  eyes  wide 
open,  as  he  surveyed  the  wreck  of  the  outer  doors. 

"  Mr.  Morton,  see  if  you  can  work  the  combination 
now,"  the  Inspector  calmly  said,  observing  the  inner 
doors  intact. 

With  trembling  hand,  Morton  turned  the  knobs  !  The 
doors  at  last  swung  free. 

"  All  looks  right,  so  far.  There  is  no  trouble  in  these 
locks,"  the  manager  said,  with  lingering  hope  in  his  voice. 

The  Inspector,  stepping  in,  said  :  "  All  has  been  turned 
over  here  !  Mr.  Cashier,  take  out  your  books." 

Under  Seth's  superintendence,  fifteen  minutes  revealed 
the  loss  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  U.  S. 
bonds  and  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  dollars  in 
currency  !  This  amazed  the  little  circle  of  the  partners, 
the  two  gray-headed  police  chiefs,  and  even  the  impassive 
detectives  who  accompanied  the  Inspector. 

"  My  God  !  "  groaned  Seth  Wise.  "  Claire's  fortune 
is  gone  ! "  Morton  gazed  as  if  in  a  horrid  dream  !  The 
money  destined  for  his  wife's  fortune  had  vanished. 

Burnham's  face  was  as  sternly  silent  as  a  Roman 
bronze.  "  We  must  keep  this  robbery  quiet,"  whispered 
Seth  Wise.  The  nonplussed  watchers  gazed  blankly  at 
each  other. 


200  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

This  mournful  tableau  was  broken  up  by  the  arrival  of 
a  messenger.  The  Inspector  handed  Seth  Wise  a  tele 
gram. 

BELLEVUE  HOSPITAL. 

A  man  answering  your  description  was  sent  in  here  from  West 
I2$th  Street  Station  at  1.30  last  night.  Mysterious  case.  Opium 
delirium — incipient  tremens — or  felonious  assault  with  sandbag. 
Money  on  his  person  and  private  articles — no  papers.  Send  detec 
tive  up  here  at  once. 

J  ANEW  AY, 

Surgeon-in-Charge. 

The  Inspector  called  a  detective  :  "  Get  up  there  at 
once.  Send  some  one  along  who  knows  Cram  well. 
You  !  " — he  indicated  the  cashier.  "  Report  by  telegraph. 
Hasten." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Inspector  to  the  gloomy  mem 
bers  of  the  firm,  "  I  will  now  go  down  to  the  station  and 
send  out  some  orders.  You  had  better  send  for  your 
lawyer  and  principal  employees.  While  I  am  away,  you 
can  talk  things  over.  The  Captain  will  give  you  a  proper 
guard."  He  briskly  departed. 

In  low  tones,  the  three  partners,  brought  together  now 
by  calamity,  were  forced  to  confer. 

"  This  must  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible,"  Seth  Wise 
said.  "  Let  us  drop  our  differences  for  a  short  time. 
We  must  admit  only  a  small  loss  publicly.  I  will  con 
tinue  to  sustain  our  credit.  Let  us  put  the  whole  thing 
in  the  Inspector's  hands.  This  is  clear  :  the  time-lock  has 
been  tampered  with,  and  the  main  doors  not.  There  has 
been  foul  treachery  and  sly  theft.  But  some  one  must 
have  got  at  the  combination  in  some  mysterious  way. 
Can  you  suspect  any  one  ?  " 

Morton  hung  his  head.     Burriham  was  silent. 

"  Let  our  usual  business  go  on  ;  we  must  repair  this 
loss,  or — or  stand  it,"  Seth  energetically  said.  "  We  will 
search  by  every  avenue  for  the  plunder  !  " 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  2OI 

The  Inspector  returned  after  a  self-commune  of  an  hour. 

"It  is  really  Abel  Cram  who  lies  in  the  hospital. 
He  is  utterly  demented.  The  doctors  are  at  a  loss  to 
explain.  He  was  not  reported  drunk.  He  has  no  signs  of 
an  opium  fiend.  He  has  no  marks  of  violence  on  him. 
His  mind  is  utterly  vacant,  and  he  looks  as  if  he  had  been 
poisoned.  But  he  had  a  considerable  sum  of  money  with 
him.  The  cashier  telegraphs  he  recognized  one  or  two 
peculiar  bills  which  he  handled  yesterday.  Now,  gentle 
men,  shall  I  take  charge  of  this  case  ?  Of  course,  we  will 
hold  the  clerk." 

"  Yes,"  all  three  answered  in  a  breath. 

"Will  you  announce  a  public  reward  ?  " 

All  shook  their  heads.  Wise  said  :  "  Not  yet.  Search 
every  corner  of  New  York.  Spare  no  pains  or  expense  ; 
but  work  silently." 

"  Then  I'll  trace  every  '  crook  '  of  any  note  in  New  York 
last  night.  I'll  watch  over  all  the  trains  and  steamers. 
I  go  now  and  see  this  half-crazy  man  myself.  He  has 
been  a  part  of  this — either  thief,  fool,  or  victim.  The 
mystery  hangs  on  him.  But  there  has  been  other  treach 
ery  also.  This  is  not  the  work  of  regular  criminals.  It 
has  been  done  in  some  way  from  the  inside  of  this  firm. 
1  will  report  to  you  at  my  oifice  to-morrow,  Mr.  Wise. 
I  presume  any  one  of  the  firm  will  do.  By  the  way," 
and  the  stern  Inspector  nodded  to  Seth  Wise,  and  they 
stepped  out  of  the  room  a  few  moments.  The  Inspector 
eyed  Wise  keenly  :  "  Are  your  young  partners  both 
square  ?  "  he  whispered,  as  they  .went  down  the  steps. 

"  Perfectly,"  Seth  replied.  "  I'll  stake  my  life  on 
that." 

"  And  also  discreet  ?  "  the  Inspector  said,  with  a  pecul 
iar  smile. 

Old  Seth  was  silent— he  dared  not  tell  all  ! 

In  two  hours,  to  all  appearance  the  bank  was  in  its 
usual  order.  The  junior  partners  and  senior  clerks 


202  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

were  all  privately  ordered  to  report  Sunday  for  the  re 
arrangement  of  the  wreck. 

"Burnham,  come  to  my  house  to-night/'  privately 
directed  old  Seth,  as  Ralph  left. 

Wise  and  Morton  visited  the  wounded  watchman.  He 
was  in  a  favorable  state  ;  but  months  would  elapse  (if  he 
did  recover)  before  he  would  be  able  to  use  his  mind. 
His  club,  pistol,  and  lantern,  found  near  him,  proved  that 
he  had  been  completely  surprised. 

By  the  side  of  the  bed  of  the  staring-eyed  Abel  Cram, 
the  two  seniors  were  met  again  by  a  mystery.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  him  understand  his  grave  situation. 
No  thoroughfare  ! 

After  a  gloomy  parting  from  the  younger  men,  Wise 
sought  his  lonely  home.  Harrry  Morton,  heavy-hearted, 
rejoined  his  wife.  Burnham,  with  Maxwell  by  his  side, 
discussed  the  affair  till  late.  What  hidden  hand  had 
struck  this  blow  ? 

"  I  will  go  out  of  the  firm  December  ist.  I  have  had 
enough,"  Ralph  said  ;  "  I  shall  leave  the  country.  I've 
lost  all  my  profits.  I  have  no  capital  left  to  repair  this 
heavy  blow.  Wise  and  Morton  can  take  over  the  busi 
ness.  I  shall  travel  a  year.  I  have  thrown  away  my 
best  years  here,  in  this  cursed  Wall  Street." 

Walter  Maxwell  slowly  said  :  "  Ralph,  it's  your  duty  to 
stay  and  try  to  unravel  this.  You  owe  it  to  stanch  old 
WTise.  I  believe  there  has  been  dark  work  very  near 
you." 

Ralph  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  :  "  I'm  tired  of  it 
all."  The  old  refrain  ! 

As  Seth  Wise  mounted  his  mansion's  broad  steps, 
he  thought  of  the  sly  Haggerty.  "  By  Jove,  I'll  put  him 
on  the  scent."  After  a  hasty  dinner,  the  old  capitalist 
sat  long  in  conference  with  the  ferret-eyed  scribe. 

Ed.  Haggerty  was  watchful  and  silent.  After  ten 
minutes,  when  Wise  had  finished  his  recital,  the  reporter 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  203 

slowly  said  :  "  Give  me  a  week  now  on  this,  Mr.  Wise. 
Don't  mention  my  name  to  the  police  or  to  either  of  your 
partners.  I  was  going  over  to  Europe  with  Viola 
Pomeroy  to  see  life  on  the  *  other  side.'  We  proposed 
to  marry  on  your  money.  But  I'm  going  to  get  some 
more  of  it,  if  I  can  earn  it  here." 

"  What  is  your  plan  ?  "  Wise  asked. 

Haggerty  calmly  said:  "  Why,  this  thing  will  surely 
leak  out.  I  will  spread  myself  around  the  city.  I'm  free 
of  the  town.  I  may  catch  up  a  point.  But  I  don't  want 
to  see  you  till  I  am  done.  You  will  all  be  watched." 

"  Very  prudent,"  Wise  growled.  "  Here's  some  money. 
Come  in  any  night  after  ten.  They  will  admit  you." 

"If  you  meet  me  outside,  you  are  not  to  know  me," 
said  Haggerty. 

"All  right,"  remarked  the  worn-out  banker. 

And  New  York  slept  once  more,  while  far  away  to 
the  South  the  white-winged  Restless  was  speeding  along 
like  an  arrow  shot  from  a  bow. 

Morton,  tossing  on  his  pillow,  had  an  uneasy  dream  in 
which  Overton,  Marie,  and  Abel  Cram  were  dragging 
him  down  into  a  gulf  :  "  Fool !  "  he  said  in  the  morning, 
as  he  woke  heavy-hearted,  "they  are  all  far  away."  A 
week  rolled  by.  The  mystery  was  greater  than  ever. 
Fugitive  allusions  to  a  robbery  in  Wall  Street  were 
laughed  at  by  the  police. 

"  Only  a  break-down  of  the  locks,  and  they  had  to  be 
forced.  Such  things  occur  in  banks." 

Morton  breathed  freer  when,  six  days  after  Overton's 
"departure,"  a  routine  telegram  on  business  was  handed 
to  him  from  Mr.  Thomas  Overton  at  Leadville. 

The  next  day  his  heart  beat  wildly  as  he  received  a 

private  telegram  from  "  Mobile,"  signed  "  Marie  A ," 

with  the  words  :  "  Expect  me  soon  ;  all  well."  His  heart 
beat  high  in  hope. 

A  full  letter  from  Overton  arrived  on  the  heels  of  the 


204  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

telegram.  The  Denver  man's  return  was  delayed  some 
weeks.  He,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  the  robbery. 

"  Good  !  "  Morton  soliloquized.  "  He  will  be  off  my 
hands,  when  Marie  comes." 

And  the  days  slipped  by !  The  baffled  Inspector 
could  find  no  clew.  Flanagan  lingered  on  his  bed  of 
pain  in  superinduced  brain-fever  !  Abel  Cram's  mind 
was  a  hopeless  blank,  but  the  examination  of  the  books 
showed  Cram  a  defaulter  to  nearly  seven  thousand 
dollars.  Beyond  the  conclusion  that  the  clerk  was  an 
accomplice  or  tool  of  the  mysterious  thieves,  no  advance 
to  any  solution  seemed  possible. 

In  three  weeks,  Burnham  left  the  bank  !  His  connec 
tion  had  ceased.  It  was  without  a  word  to  Morton  that 
he  slipped  over  the  threshold  ! 

On  the  shoulders  of  Wise  and  Morton  fell  the  labor  of 
regulating  the  entangled  affairs.  Burnham  steadily  refused 
to  take  a  dollar,  as  his  share  of  the  profits  was  more  than 
engulfed  by  his  proportional  share  of  loss. 

"Never  mind,  Ralph  !  "  said  Wise.  "  Here  !  go  abroad 
a  year  !  Here's  a  letter  of  credit  for  five  thousand  dol 
lars.  Come  back  then,  and  I'll  give  you  a  business  of 
your  own.  But  don't  go  away  till  I  advise  you.  I  may 
need  your  help  here  yet.  I  have  a  heavy  load  to  carry 
in  these  affairs." 

Burnham  knew  that  silent  old  Seth  Wise  feared  and 
distrusted  the  steadiness  of  the  man  he  now  was  sole 
partner  with.  Haggerty,  from  time  to  time,  reported. 
The  same  song,  always,  was  heard,  "  No  news  !  "  He  had 
traced  up  the  surroundings  of  the  watchman,  his  family, 
and  all  Abel  Cram's  antecedents.  He  gathered  the  half- 
whispered  gossip  of  the  town.  The  firm  was  now  aware 
that  the  lists  and  numbers  of  the  bonds  were  missing. 
"Cram  must  have  known  all,"  the  Inspector  gravely  said, 
"  to  destroy  these  lists  of  the  bond  numbers,  and  he  had 
skilful  help." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  205 

While  Morton  hungered  for  the  return  of  the  white- 
armed  siren,  whose  voluptuous  charms  haunted  his  sleep, 
and  waited  now  in  vain  for  letters  from  Overton,  an 
order  came  in  from  a  city  broker  for  Overton's  tin  box, 
and  with  it  a  check  balancing  his  account. 

Riley's  fine  hand  served  Overton  well  in  this.  As  the 
check  and  order  were  veritable,  and  the  firm  presenting 
them  quite  respectable,  Morton  was  fain  to  honor  them. 
Inquiry  only  elicited  the  fact  that  Mr.  Overton  was  in 
Southern  Colorado,  and  contemplated  a  Mexican  busi 
ness  tour. 

Riley  laughed  slyly,  in  his  den,  at  the  effect  of  the 
bogus  telegrams  and  the  real  letters,  check,  and  orders. 
"  I  guess  I'll  let  old  Jose  keep  the  tin  box,"  he  laughed. 
"  I  don't  want  such  dangerous  goods  !  " 

Morton  gloomily  saw  one-half  his  private  fortune  sunk 
in  securing  the  losses  of  the  firm  !  This  was  met  by  Seth 
Wise  in  his  proportion  !  Not  a  sign  of  robbers,  funds,  or 
bonds ! 

Once  a  week,  old  Seth  dined  with  the  Mortons,  and 
late  at  night  conferred  with  Harry.  Clew,  suspicion,  or 
fact,  other  than  the  complicity  of  the  vacant-minded 
fool,  Abel  Cram,  there  was  none  !  Even  the  Inspector  was 
baffled. 

Morton  waited,  his  passions  tormenting  him,  in  vain  for 
Marie  Ashton's  return.  The  snows  of  winter  were  on 
the  ground,  and  Wise,  by  his  lonely  fireside,  often 
dreamed  moodily  over  the  great  calamity.  The  busi 
ness  was  nearly  all  adjusted,  yet  Seth  remained  in  the 
firm,  for  Morton  was  not  strong  enough  financially  to 
carry  it.  "  For  Claire's  sake  !  "  he  said.  And  she,  poor 
woman,  was  a  full  partner  of  Henry  Morton's  sorrows. 

A  violent  ring  at  Wise's  door-bell,  one  cold  evening, 
brought  in  Ed.  Haggerty,  his  clothes  flaked*  with  falling 
snow!  His  eyes  sparkled.  "  What  is  it?"  old  Seth 
eagerly  queried  ! 


206  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  I  have  one  clew,  at  last.  I  do  a  bit  now  and  then  on 
the  races  !  I  strolled  into  a  big  pool-room  down-town, 
to-day,  to  see  some  of  the  boys.  I  know  all  the  men 
there  who  serve  behind  the  bar.  Following  my  usual 
plan,  I  casually  brought  up  this  matter.  You  know 
it's  whispered  around  very  freely  now.  One  of  the 
bar-tenders  I  know,  told  me,  over  a  cocktail :  *  That 
clerk  used  to  blow  in  a  good  deal  of  money  on  the  races  ! 
He  had  a  Western  fellow  coaching  him,  and  they  used 
to  meet  here,  and  have  private  rooms  !  I  believe  that 
sharper  got  the  money  he  stole  ! ' ' 

Seth  Wise's  face  grew  pale  as  ashes.  It  was  leading 
home  at  last  ! 

"  Now,"  said  the  excited  Haggerty,,  "  I  had  him  de 
scribe  the  man.  He  gave  me  a  picture  of  this  Tom 
Overton  to  a  hair  !  I  said  but  little,  and  he  finished  : 
'  There's  a  fellow  can  post  you  better  than  me  !  He's 
the  steward  of  the  Insurance  Club.  All  these  two  men's 
notes  and  letters  used  to  be  sent  over  there  !  Get  on  to 
him.'  Now,  I  happened  to  know  this  very  steward.  I 
strolled  in,  and  set  up  the  drinks.  I  saw  my  man.  He 
told  me,  'on  the  quiet,'  that  this  Overton  used  to 
lunch  and  dine  there  with  Cram  now  and  then  !  " — Hag- 
gerty's  face  was  almost  ghastly  now  as  he  finished, — "  and 
with  one  other  man — but  these  two  men  were  never  to 
gether  with  Overton  !  It  looks  bad  for  the  other  one, 
too  !  " 

"  Who  was  he  ? "     Wise  sprang  up,  his  voice  was  thick. 

Haggerty  recoiled.  "  For  God's  sake  !  Mr.  Wise,  don't 
blame  me  !  " 

"  Who  was  it  ?     His  name  !  "    Wise  gasped. 

"  It  was  your  partner,  Henry  Morton,"  said  Hag 
gerty,  as  the  old  man  dropped  in  a  chair,  half  senseless. 

Haggerty  grasped  a  flask  from  the  sideboard.  "  Here  !  " 
he  cried — with  genuine  fright.  The  banker  slowly 
revived. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  207 

When  Seth  recovered,  he  feebly  said  :  "  Haggerty,  not 
a  word  to  these  people,  or  any  living  soul,  of  your  suspi 
cions  ! " 

A  faint  smile  played  on  the  reporter's  face.  "  Never, 
sir  !  "  he  said,  for  he  really  pitied  the  old  hero. 

"  And  why  do  you  join  these  two  men  in  your  suspi 
cions  ? "  he  hesitatingly  said. 

"  Because,"  impressively  said  Haggerty,  '*  Cram  ran 
the  outside  time-lock  :  Morton,  you  told  me,  held  the 
inside  combination  !  Now,  somebody  bamboozled  this 
last  secret  out  of  Morton  !  By  God  !  I  see  it  all,"  yelled 
Haggerty,  as  he  sprang  up. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Wise  shouted,  grasping  the 
nervous  man  ! 

"  That  handsome  fiend  of  a  woman  robbed  Morton 
the  night  after  the  wreck.  She  went  through  his  papers, 
and  got  that  combination  while  he  slept  !  I'll  wager 
my  head  on  it !  " 

Seth  Wise  groaned.  "  My  God  !  can  it  be  ?  But  they 
cleared  out  long  before  this." 

*'  Ah  !  They  may  be  within  a  mile  of  us  now,"  Hag 
gerty  said.  "  New  York  is  a  hellish  place  for  these 
hidden  rascalities."  The  clock  ticked  away  noisily. 

Silence  between  the  speakers  reigned  for  five  minutes. 
Seth  Wise  walked  up  and  down  the  room  !  At  last,  ap 
proaching  the  young  man,  he  said,  slowly  : 

"  Take  the  next  steamer.  Go  abroad.  They  may  have 
fled  to  Paris.  Cable  me  your  arrival.  Write  me  your 
address  over  there.  Don't  fail  to  post  me.  You  may 
hear  something.  Take  Miss  Pomeroy  with  you." 

"  She  goes  as  Mrs.  Haggerty,  then,"  proudly  said  the 
scribe. 

"  All  right,"  said  Seth.  "  You  have  been  loyal  to  me. 
This  would  stop  your  mouth  if  you  had  no  other  feel 
ing,"  and  he  scrawled  him  a  check.  "  These  people  may 
be  running  around  Europe.  Watch  for  them."  Hag- 


208  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

gerty's  surprise  and  joy  found  no  words.  "  Now  don't 
let  me  hear  of  you  till  your  arrival  abroad.  You,  I  sup 
pose,  will  stay  bought,  now  that  I  have  bought  you.  Off 
with  you,  and  a  safe  journey  !  " 

"  For  Claire's  sake  I  must  bear  this,"  said  the  veteran 
senior,  as  he  gazed  into  the  glowing  coals,  alone.  "  My 
God  !  Morton  is  the  cause  of  all,  I  fear.  An  adulterer,  a 
fool,  and  now  a  blundering  thief  or  an  abject  idiot !  I  will 
wind  the  whole  business  up,  by  and  by."  And  his  pillow 
was  wet  with  an  old  man's  tears.  "I  can  trust  no  one." 

While  the  delighted  Haggerty  hastened  away  to  the 
arms  of  his  prospective  wife,  making  ready  to  catch  the 
first  steamer,  Ralph  Burnham  and  Walter  Maxwell  were 
seated  in  Ralph's  rooms  in  earnest  converse.  "  I  am  only 
waiting  here  to  satisfy  dear  old  Seth,"  remarked  Burn- 
ham.  Maxwell  answered,  earnestly  :  "  You  must  try  and 
probe  this  robbery.  It  is  your  duty.  I  want  to  tell  you, 
Ralph,  of  a  singular  thing.  I  have  been  'doing'  the 
slums  and  the  *  city  front '  for  some  city  articles  I  am  en 
gaged  in  getting  up.  The  other  night  I  was  spending  a 
couple  of  hours  in  an  '  all-night '  drinking-house  down  by 
the  South  Ferry.  Two  pretty  rough  men  were  at  a  table 
next  me,  and  one  began  talking  of  a  beautiful  woman  he 
had  taken  aboard  an  outward  bound  schooner  on  a  tug 
last  Thanksgiving  eve.  He  raved  over  her.  She  had  a 
colored  girl  with  her,  he  said.  *  And  what's  singular,'  he 
continued,  *  we  ran  back  with  two  passengers  more  near 
midnight,  and  one  of  them  was  so  drunk,  or  sick,  we  had 
to  bring  him  back  and  put  him  off  on  the  North  River.' 
This  speaker  raved  about  the  wonderful  woman.  I 
couldn't  catch  the  name  of  the  tug,  but  the  schooner 
was  the  Restless,  and  she  was  lying  at  Sandy  Hook, 
inside.  After  these  men  went  away  I  found  out  from 
the  barkeeper  the  man  was  a  fireman  now  on  a  tug 
called  the  Faugh  a  Ballagh.  Now,  I  have  a  presenti 
ment,  this  might  have  been  that  fool  Cram  who  was 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  209 

thrust  ashore.  But  who  the  other  passengers  were,  God 
knows  !  I  give  it  to  you  for  what  it's  worth.  It  was 
the  night  of  the  robbery." 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Ralph,  making  a  note  in  his 
book  of  the  names.  "  I'll  look  into  it.  I'll  speak  to  Wise, 
if  you've  no  objection." 

Ralph  Burnham  caught  Wise  at  breakfast,  haunted  by 
this  story,  and  briefly  gave  him  the  report  of  Maxwell. 
The  old  banker  quivered  in  his  chair.  "  I  think  it  is 
some  mere  coincidence,"  he  faltered.  "  I  am  sick  of  con 
jectures  as  to  the  whole  thing.  The  robbery  was  real.  I 
know  that,  to  my  sorrow.  But  I  must  get  down-town." 

Ralph  departed,  having  unbosomed  himself.  Wise 
waited  till  his  front  door  closed,  and  sent  his  valet  in 
stantly  for  Haggerty. 

The  expectant  bridegroom  suspended  his  packing,  and 
reported  on  the  run.  Seth  briefly  told  him  all.  "  Wait 
in  town  a  few  days.  Don't  you  stop  work  till  you  find 
out  about  this  Restless,  and  who  owns  this  tug.  Don't 
come  into  the  bank.  Just  send  a  boy  in  for  me  with 
this  card." 

In  three  hours  the  old  man  knew  that  the  respectable 
Senor  Jose  Oliviera,  of  25  South  Street,  was  the  owner 
of  the  Restless,  and  the  landing-place  of  the  tug  was 
easily  found. 

"  Now,  off  with  you  !  "  said  Wise,  dismissing  Haggerty. 
"I  will  have  this  all  ferreted  out." 

An  hour  with  the  Inspector  caused  department  experts 
to  search  the  records,  papers,  and  customs  books  of  the 
date  of  the  robbery. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  Inspector,  next  day,  "  Senor 
Oliviera  is  one  of  our  leading  foreign  merchants.  The  tug- 
owner  is  ail  right.  He  is  an  old  New  York  City  front  tow 
ing  master.  The  vessel  is  on  an  all-round  trading  cruise. 
Now,  but  one  thing  looks  suspicious  :  a  man,  and  a  woman 
with  a  negro  maid,  were  the  three  passengers  who  did  go 
14 


2IO  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

in  her,  but  their  names  and  descriptions  cannot  be  had 
till  the  schooner  returns.  It  maybe  months.  They  paid 
their  passage  through  an  agent,  with  privilege  of  getting 
off  at  Havana  or  the  Windward  Islands." 

Seth  was  fain  to  be  content.  Mystified  and  baffled,  he 
felt  that  Morton  was  an  innocent  cause  of  the  disaster. 
He  returned  to  his  office.  "  Whom  can  I  trust  ?  "  he  mur 
mured.  "  Not  Morton  ;  I  fear  his  deceit  about  his  private 
life.  Haggerty  is  off.  The  police  have  shown  no  great 
force  or  skill."  In  his  office  he  mechanically  took  up  a 
"  Herald  "  as  he  lit  a  cigar.  "  I  shall  go  mad  over  these 
worries,"  he  thought.  "  There  is  a  dark  mystery  here. 
Does  Morton  know  anything  ?  Does  he  suspect  ?  "  His 
eye,  roving  over  the  shipping  news,  caught  the  name 
Restless.  He  had  been  looking  over  the  South  Ameri 
can  ports.  The  brief  entry  was  dated  at  Colon  :  "  Schr. 
Restless,  New  York  via  Truxillo."  "  I'll  settle  this 
soon,"  he  growled.  Closeted  with  a  head  official  of  the 
Western  Union  Telegraph,  he  invoked  their  aid  and  the 
use  of  their  own  official  cipher.  Despatches  to  Colon  and 
Truxillo,  in  the  name  of  telegraph  headquarters,  called 
for  every  item  as  to  the  Restless.  Wise  tossed  in  his 
sleep,  dreaming  of  the  mysterious  marauders. 

Long  since,  all  hope  was  given  up,  by  the  physicians 
of  returning  reason  iri  Cram.  He  was  watched  and  de 
tained  as  an  imbecile  criminal.  It  would  be  a  month 
before  Flanagan  might  be  relied  on  to  tell  the  story  of 
his  surprise. 

At  six  o'clock  the  sleeping  old  man  was  awakened  by  a 
messenger.  Two  long  despatches  awaited  him.  With 
feverish  hand  he  tore  them  open.  "  American  man 
answering  your  description  arrested  here  for  violating 
customs  laws.  Sent  to  Tegucigalpa  for  trial.  He  is  now 
there.  Schooner  ran  out  of  harbor  without  clearance. 
Whereabouts  unknown."  Signed,  "Truxillo  Office." 
Wise  was  seeing  now  a  breaking  light.  And  the  other  : 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  211 

"  Schooner  Restless  sailed  yesterday  for  Spanish  main 
trading.  She  landed  here  a  lady  passenger  answering 
to  your  description.  This  person  sailed  for  Europe  with 
negro  maid  three  days  ago  on  the  French  steamer." 
Signed,  "  Colon  Office." 

The  old  banker  quickly  sought  his  lawyer  at  his  house, 
and  their  conference  was  grave  and  earnest. 

"  There's  no  extradition  in  Spanish  Honduras.  It's  all 
filled  up  with  renegade  scoundrel  Americans.  Any  one 
with  money  is  safe  there.  But  I  don't  see  why  this  man 
and  woman  would  separate.  You  can't  bother  her  on 
arriving  in  France  ;  you  have  no  evidence  against  her. 
Besides,  she  has  not  got  the  plunder,  you  may  be  sure. 
The  man  has  it.  I  would  telegraph  the  American  Min 
ister  at  Guatemala  City.  There  is  one  legation  for  the 
five  Central  American  states.  Give  him  a  full  descrip 
tion.  If  the  man  is  there,  send  some  one  down  to  nego 
tiate  for  the  return  of  the  bonds.  That  is  about  all  you 
can  do.  You  may  save  half  your  loss  this  way." 

Wise  prepared  a  despatch  from  the  eminent  lawyer's 
dictation.  The  Western  Union  headquarters  gave  it 
special  sanction  and  care.  Walking  his  rooms,  like  a 
restless  tiger,  the  aged  capitalist  pondered  over  the 
situation.  The  gray  dawn  was  struggling  in  the  win 
dows  before  he  decided  upon  his  course. 

"  I  will  probe  Morton.  He  shall  know  my  suspicions. 
If  he  is  honest  at  heart,  he  will  try  to  redeem  his  name. 
If  he  is  a  thief,  I  owe  it  to  Claire  to  know  and  guard  her 
from  him." 

At  the  bank,  whence  all  outward  semblance  of  the  dis 
aster  had  vanished,  Seth  Wise  received  at  noon  an  official 
answer  from  the  U.  S.  Legation  : 

Man  of  exact  description  now  at  Tegucigalpa,  awaiting  his  trial 
for  violation  of  customs.  Has  money,  and  is  suspicious.  Would 
send  agent  at  once.  International  law  is  powerless. 

U-  S.  Minister,  Central  America. 


212  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Now,  when  I've  telegraphed  my  agent  at  Havre  to 
watch  the  Ville  de  Bordeaux,  and  shadow  the  woman, 
I've  done  all  I  can,"  said  Seth,  closing  his  despatch  book. 

The  old  financier  had  placed  a  reliable  man  in  the 
bank  to  replace  the  absent  Burnham.  Business,  quietly 
moving  on,  showed  no  trace  of  the  shock  of  the  robbery. 

"  Morton,"  said  Seth  Wise,  as  he  donned  his  overcoat, 
"  please  give  me  this  evening  at  my  house  on  the  most 
important  business.  I  will  wait  for  you."  The  humbled 
ex-manager  bowed  his  head,  for  Seth  Wise,  with  his 
reserves  from  the  Chemical,  was  now  the  mainstay  of 
the  bank. 

Before  a  glowing  fire,  when  the  stars  glittered  in  the 
chill  wintry  air,  Wise  clearly  and  plainly  unfolded  the 
whole  suspicions  of  his  mind  to  Harry  Morton.  Ab 
sorbed  in  his  own  recital,  he  did  not  notice  the  crushed 
and  broken  man  before  him. 

"  I  don't  doubt  you,  Henry,  save  in  one  respect,  but  I 
do  feel  that  your  fatal  passion  has  been  in  some  way  the 
cause  of  our  financial  loss.  These  people  have  played 
on  your  feelings.  You  have  been  duped.  You  have 
been  grossly  deceived.  This  man  and  woman  are 
operating  together.  Cram's  thievery  became  in  some 
way  known  to  this  Overton,  and  he  has  been  terrorized. 
But  you — you  have  been  weak.  Your  carelessness 
caused  this  ruin  !  " 

Morton  sprang  to  his  feet,  with  almost  a  scream.  "It's 
a  base  lie  !  Look  there  !  "  and  he  threw  out  Overtoil's 
telegram  from  Denver,  and  the  orders  for  the  box. 
Even  in  his  mad  rage  he  dared  not  show  the  last  de 
spatch  from  the  still  absent  "  Witch  of  Harlem." 

Seth  smiled  grimly.  "  My  poor  boy,  now  I  am  sure  of 
the  whole  plot.  These  things  are  decoys  and  have  been 
arranged.  They  have  had  some  help  here,  and  not  from 
the  ordinary  criminal  classes.  You  were  robbed  first  of 
the  combination,  and  Cram  was  hunted  down  and  be- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  213 

trayed  likfe  a  dog.  The  money  was  carried  off  on  that 
schooner." 

Henry  Morton's  heart  froze.  Like  a  flash  of  lightning 
came  back  the  memory  of  the  night  when  Marie  Ashton 
watched  over  him,  as  he  slept.  The  combination  had 
been  in  his  pocket-book. 

Streaks  of  fire  danced  before  his  eyes.  He  paced  the 
room  like  a  tiger. 

"  Wise,"  said  he,  "  I'm  utterly  useless  to  you  now. 
You  can  easily  handle  the  business.  I  am  going  to  leave 
•to-morrow  morning  for  Honduras.  I  learned  Spanish 
when  I  was  in  Cuba.  I  can  travel.  I  have  almost 
ruined  myself.  I  have  also  helped  to  cripple  you.  Even 
Claire  would  be  well  rid  of  me.  I'll  follow  that  man  to 
Cape  Horn,  if  he  has  that  money  and  those  bonds.  You 
can  let  Btirnham  help  you  out.  I  leave  Claire  in  your 
hands." 

An  hour  passed  in  vain  expostulation.  "  I'll  go,  if  I 
live  to  see  to-morrow's  sun.  I'll  take  the  train  to  New 
Orleans,  go  over  to  Truxillo,  and  make  no  sign  of  my 
departure." 

"  Can't  we  negotiate  by  some  one  else  ?  "  feebly  pleaded 
Seth. 

"  Never  !  "  Morton  exclaimed. 

**  Then  I  go  to  your  house  with  you,"  Seth  insisted. 
"  Claire  must  be  reasoned  with." 

Aided  by  his  nimble  servants,  watched  over  by  Seth 
and  his  astonished  wife,  Morton  made  his  brief  prepara 
tions.  His  conference  with  Wise  was  short.  "  I  can 
get  all  personal  supplies  in  New  Orleans."  He  would 
not  be  brooked.  So,  on  a  cold  and  cheerless  winter 
morning,  Harry  Morton,  half  crazed,  smarting  under 
defeat  and  having  told  but  half  the  truth,  tore  himself 
from  the  clinging  arms  of  Claire  and  went  away  to  face 
the  devil  incarnate  who  had  ruined  him  ! 


BOOK  III. 


A    BLIND    TRAIL. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

ON    THE    BLUE    CARIBBEAN.       PARTED    BY    FATE.       IN    THE 
HONDURAS    MOUNTAINS.       NEARING    HIS    ENEMY. 

WHILE  Harry  Morton,  his  wolfish  eyes  now  hungering 
for  the  first  sight  of  his  unmasked  foe,  sped  away  to  New 
Orleans,  the  billing  and  cooing  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward 
Haggerty,  of  New  York,  amused  the  blast  swells  of  the 
ocean  who  crowded  La  Touraine  on  her  outward  voyage. 

Haggerty  sailed  directly  to  France,  as  his  hot  Milesian 
blood  impelled  him  to  "  dash  down  the  Sassenach  "  by 
declining  to  give  any  man  in  England  that  universal 
"shilling,"  for  which  the  itching  palm  of  the  Briton 
seems  to  be  continually  stretched  out. 

Denying  himself  the  pleasure  of  visiting  the  land  of 
Brian  Boru,  "  now  under  the  heel  of  the  red-coated 
tyrant,"  as  he  felicitously  put  it,  Haggerty  was  spared 
the  wild  appeal  at  parting,  "  Oh  !  make  it  an  'arf  a  crown, 
sir,"  from  the  swarming  domestic  sharks  of  Albion. 

Haggerty  carried  with  him  the  address  of  Seth  Wise's 
confidential  correspondent  in  Paris,  and  was  carefully  in 
structed  to  report  there  for  orders  from  time  to  time. 

Morton,  on  his  flying  train,  conned  over  the  letters, 
furnished  by  Wise,  to  consuls  and  ministers,  to  business 
houses  and  steamboat  agencies.  With  a  good  cipher, 
abundant  funds,  and  these  powerful  confidential  letters, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  215 

guided  by  the  New  Orleans  steam-packet  owners,  he  was 
ready  for  his  wild  trip  into  that  tropic  wilderness  where 
the  despairing  Cortez  buried  his  priceless  veterans  in  the 
vain  attempt  to  scale  the  terrific  gorges  of  interior  Hon 
duras.  Gold  and  the  lust  of  gold  led  the  Spaniards 
there — the  never-dying  thirst  of  gold.  It  was  the  same 
cursed  lure  which  dragged  tenry  Morton  to  those  pesti 
lential  tropic  forests. 

Yet,  with  all  his  desire  to  recover  at  least  Claire's 
destined  legacy,  his  secret  purpose  as  a  man  was  per 
sonal  revenge.  A  deadly  revenge  for  his  shame,  his 
exposure,  his  alienated  friends,  his  estranged  wife,  and — 
and — his  swelling  veins,  gorged  with  black  blood  in  use 
less  rage,  proved  it — a  deadly  revenge  for  the  loss  of 
false  Marie  Ashton  ! 

"  Ah,  Marie,"  he  groaned,  as,  shutting  his  eyes,  he 
could  see  again  her  exquisite  form,  her  clinging  arms 
stretched  toward  him,  her  eyes  of  deepest  blue  shine  on 
him  again.  The  sweep  of  her  golden  hair  over  the 
snowy  shoulders,  the  swell  of  her  heaving  ivory  bosom, 
the  rustle  of  her  dress,  came  back  once  more,  and  the 
faint,  intangible  perfume  clinging  to  her  robes — all  these 
things,  memory  treasured — maddened  him  on  his  lonely 
way. 

"  If  he  has  robbed  and  abandoned  her,  I'll  kill  him  on 
sight.  If  they  both  .have  deceived  me,  I  will  kill  the 
pair  of  human  devils.  The  world  is  not  wide  enough 
for  Tom  Overton  to  escape  me." 

A  day-dreamer,  a  passion-crazed  lunatic,  was  Morton, 
for  the  fires  of  unsatisfied  passion,  insane  jealousy,  and 
goading  desire  drove  him  onward.  Silent  and  lonely,  he 
lived  in  the  unreal  world  of  these  thoughts,  forcing  him 
to  mental  desperation.  Maps,  books,  and  plans  of  travel 
occupied  his  leisure,  as  he  whirled  away  beyond  the 
crested  pines  of  Tennessee  to  the  magnolia  groves  of 
the  Southland.  At  New  Orleans  he  eagerly  read  Seth's 


2l6  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

despatches.  While  busied  with  outfitting,  he  waited  two 
days  for  his  steamer  to  Truxillo. 

Morton  reviewed  the  situation.  His  last  telegrams  an 
nounced  that  Flanagan,  at  last,  was  able  to  talk.  The  mys 
tery  deepened.  The  honest  watchman's  memory  was  of 
an  unknown  assailant  only.  Abel  Cram,  he  declared,  had 
visited  the  bank,  only  to  remove  some  papers  from  his 
desk.  Examination  of  Cram's  private  drawers  showed 
that  his  daily  memoranda  and  commonplace  books  had 
been  taken  away.  Had  Cram  been  terrorized  into  set 
ting  the  time-lock  by  threats  of  prison  ?  And  yet  Abel 
had  been  foully  dealt  with.  His  moderate  shortage  of 
money  might  have  run  on  for  years.  Morton  gave  up 
the  tangled  threads  of  this  mystery.  In  Overton  was  the 
master  mind  of  the  dark  intrigue.  His  private  telegrams 
announced  no  signal  from  Marie.  The  bird  had  flown 
forever. 

So,  with  a  mass  of  luggage,  with  hunting  gear,  heavy 
repeating  rifle,  pistols,  ammunition,  stores,  and  all  neces 
saries  for  two  months  in  the  wilderness,  Harry  Morton, 
exchanging  last  telegrams  with  his  wife  and  Seth,  sailed 
down  the  great  river,  past  Farragut's  old  victory-haunted 
battle-scenes,  and  on  the  good  steamer  Joe  Oteri  took 
up  the  chase  of  the  fugitive  of  the  flying  Restless. 

Down  from  the  Capes  of  the  Delaware,  into  balmy 
airs,  under  bluest  skies  braided  with  great  glittering  stars 
at  night,  bounding  over  the  brilliant  blue  of  the  Gulf 
Stream,  her  snowy  wings  aslant,  like  a  swift  albatross, 
the  beautiful  Restless  safely  sped  with  Overton  and  the 
sweet-faced  human  devil  he  guarded.  Day  after  day  of 
peace  and  quiet  lulled  them  into  every  material  enjoyment. 

Only  when  Hatteras  sent  its  sudden  driving  black  storm 
to  toss  the  schooner  about  like  an  egg-shell  did  the  fright 
ened  siren  cling  to  her  rude  protector  in  abject  terror. 
Flashing  lightning,  roaring  surge,  and  wild  whistling 
winds  played  around  the  quivering  sea-racer. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  2iy 

With  her  hundred  and  forty  feet  of  length  half-buried 
in  the  green-crested  waves,  her  tall  masts  whipping  in  the 
blackness  of  the  night,  lit  up  only  by  lurid  lightning 
flashes,  her  great  main  boom  straining  and  creaking,  the 
peerless  Restless  battled  bravely  with  the  storm. 

Marie  Ashton,  with  pale  cheeks,  comforted  her  howl 
ing  maid  in  her  cabin,  under  battened  hatches.  Over 
head  the  hoarse  voices  of  the  officers,  the  trampling  of 
hurrying  feet,  and  howling  of  the  storm  were  mingled 
in  pandemonium. 

Once  or  twice  in  the  terrible  struggle,  Overton  ap 
peared  all  dripping  at  the  sliding  door  to  the  main  cabin. 
"  All's  well  !  "  he  cheerily  cried.  "  We  are  lying  to,  with 
only  a  little  sail  to  keep  her  head  to  the  wind."  It  was, 
indeed,  only  a  few  square  yards  of  canvas,  as  the  plung 
ing  boat  was  close-reefed  all.  In  sheer  fright  and  ex 
haustion,  Marie  slept  heavily.  When  she  awakened,  the 
blue  expanse  was  unflecked  by  a  cloud.  It  was  like 
Thackeray's  delightful  sketch  of  the  scene  whereof  he 
sings  in  "  The  White  Squall  "  : 

'  And  when  the  storm  had  ended — 
Its  harmless  force  expended — 
And  as  the  daylight  splendid 
Came  blushing  o'er  the  sea." 

So  with  her  beautiful  sheer  bow  leaping  over  the  spark 
ling  waves,  the  steady  breezes  from  pine-fringed  shores 
filling  the  snowy  clouds  of  canvas,  the  dainty  Restless 
tossed  her  head,  and  in  long  graceful  curving  swoops 
skimmed  away  to  the  palm-fringed  shores  of  Florida, 
and  the  brilliant  glories  of  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Overton 
laughed  Marie's  idle  fears  away.  u  It  was  the  last  salute  of 
the  Storm  King,  whose  black  cloud-curtained  throne  is 
builded  on  the  forbidding  shores  of  Cape  Hatteras." 

Self-contained  and  watchful,  Overton  was  a  model 
passenger.  Marie  Ashton's  cheeks  burned  with  brighter 


2l8  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

roses,  as  she  drank  in  the  delicious  tropic  air.  Walking 
the  deck,  a  sinuous  graceful  goddess,  the  sailors  deemed 
her  an  ocean  fairy,  a  sweet  dream,  for  the  breezes  sweep 
ing  her  draperies  round  her  beautiful  form,  the  flowing 
back-blown  tresses  of  her  golden  hair,  the  sparkle  of  her 
diamond  eyes,  proclaimed  her  a  newer  Aphrodite — a 
queen  at  whose  fair  feet  the  proudest  man  might  well 
sue  for  one  smile  from  her  perfect  lips. 

On  the  decks,  with  Marie  clinging  to  his  arm,  Overton 
soon  showed  his  lovely  charge  the  last  twinkling  light  at 
Key  West. 

"Say  good-by  to  your  Uncle  Sam,"  he  merrily  cried. 
"  We  are  now  leaving  the  American  waters." 

Down  through  the  straits  of  Cuba,  past  the  wreck- 
strewn  Keys,  the  fragrant  islands  and  storied  haunts  of 
the  old  buccaneers,  the  wayward  Restless  hurried  on  her 
flight.  It  was  a  dream  of  an  ocean  Paradise. 

Overton  now  sat  in  conference  with  Captain  Jonas 
Skinner,  whose  unbounded  admiration  of  the  fair  Marie 
proved  a  true  sailor's  gallantry. 

"  I  think  I'll  get  off  at  Truxillo,  Captain,"  Tom  quietly 
decided.  "  If  I  finish  my  business  and  look  around  a 
little,  I  can  take  a  coasting  steamer  down  to  Colon,  and 
go  on  to  Europe  from  there  direct.  We  may  decide  to 
go  to  South  America  or  stop  at  Havana." 

"  Very  good  !  Excellent  !  "  cried  Skinner.  "  I  will 
run  in  to  one  of  our  own  islands,  and  take  over  ten  or 
fifteen  thousand  gallons  of  good  Santa  Cruz  rum.  Don 
Jose  will  be  two  dollars  to  the  good  for  every  gallon 
I  land.  If  we  have  any  trouble,  I'll  run  out  quietly." 

"  Don't  take  any  wild  chances,"  said  Overton. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  free  of  the  whole  Honduras  coast,"  the 
captain  laughed.  "  Many's  the  successful  run  I've  made. 
Jose  Oliviera  has  his  secret  friends  in  every  port  of  the 
Spanish  main." 

Thee  days  later  the  Restless  folded  her  white  wings  in 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  219 

the  beautiful  hidden  harbor  of  an  old  Caribbean  buccaneer 
haunt.  A  few  minutes  brought  the  local  members  of  the 
association  alongside.  This  secret  band  of  cooperative 
scoundrels  numbered  merchants,  traders,  bankers,  smug 
glers,  and  officials  from  Carthagena  to  Mobile,  and  from 
Colon  to  New  York. 

Marie's  delighted  eye  roved  over  the  graceful  palms, 
the  tall  cocoa-trees,  the  banana  and  orange  groves,  and 
all  the  tropic  wealth.  With  Overton  as  her  pilot,  she 
visited,  in  the  boats,  purpled  coral  reefs,  dim  sea-caves, 
glittering  silver  inlets,  pearl-shell-strewn  beaches,  and  the' 
cunningly  devised  sheltered  bungalows  of  the  conspira 
tors,  where  lawless  luxury  reigned. 

vSwarthy  natives,  renegade  sailors,  chattering  negroes, 
and  polyglot  refugees,  quickly  loaded  the  schooner  with 
her  contraband  goods.  Swinging  idly  at  anchor,  the  deli 
cately  modelled  boat  swam  on  a  sea  of  blue  and  silver. 

Fishes,  fruits,  and  all  the  dainties  of  the  tropics  made 
the  table  service  a  series  of  feasts.  Under  an  awning, 
Marie  sat  en  reine.  The  soft  roar  of  the  white-crested 
breakers  from  the  bar  outside  lulled  her  to  repose,  in  her 
gently  swinging  hammock.  Spiced  breezes  from  this 
Island  of  the  Blest  fanned  her  lovely  brows. 

Far  up  on  the  towering  hill,  a  deserted  freebooter's 
castle  stood,  in  crumbling  ruin,  its  opening  window 
recesses  and  silent  archways  tenanted  only  by  myriad 
bats  and  the  graceful  iguana.  Morn  and  night,  the 
screams  of  bright-winged  tropic  birds  were  incessant, 
and  the  forest  reaches  were  alive  with  green  and  crimson 
and  golden  plumage  by  day. 

Haunted  by  memories  of  Lafitte,  of  Captain  Kidd,  and 
all  the  vanished  black-flag  heroes  of  a  century  gone  by, 
the  Diamond  Island  lay  a  gem  on  the  bosom  of  the  blue 
waves  circling  the  wondrously  lovely  Antilles. 

Two  days  later,  silently,  swiftly,  the  graceful  ocean 
wanderer  drove  along  to  those  crystal  seas  where  the 


22O  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

great  Southern  Cross  shone,  a  sacred  symbol  among  the 
brightest  jewels  of  the  Almighty's  eternal  diadem. 

"  Marie,"  said  Overton  as  the  Diamond  Island  faded  in 
a  cloud  of  gray  and  blue  and  rosy  gleams,  far  astern,  "  we 
must  now  prepare  for  our  landing." 

In  strictest  privacy,  the  two  newly  made  capitalists 
arranged  and  concealed  the  bulkier  portion  of  the  in 
voluntary  contribution  of  Morton,  Burnham  &  Co.  to 
their  joint  purse.  Two  false-bottomed  trunks  enabled 
the  bonds  to  be  deftly  concealed.  The  larger  currency 
•was  divided  in  their  baggage  adroitly. 

Overton  was  an  inspirational  genius.  Directing  Marie 
Ashton's  nimble  fingers,  he  achieved  the  feat  of  conceal 
ing  nearly  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  currency  between 
the  linings  of  his  coat  and  vest.  The  remainder  of  the 
notes  was  skilfully  inserted  in  various  wraps,  capes, 
cloaks,  and  robes  of  the  newly  christened  Mrs.  Eleanor 
Laurence. 

"  Now  we  are  safe  for  any  customs  examination," 
Overton  gleefully  exclaimed.  "  In  case  of  trouble,  a 
liberal  bribe  will  free  us  of  any  annoyance.  I  have 
chosen  Truxillo  as  a  first  landing-place,  because  I  have 
Jose's  private  cipher  with  me.  His  agent  can  telegraph 
for  me  and  find  out  all  the  New  York  news.  Riley  and 
Jose  are  daily  together." 

Marie  Ashton,  even  at  the  sea-gates  of  Central 
America,  did  not  know  all  the  details  of  the  desperate 
raid  which  gave  her  the  baptismal  wealth  she  enjoyed  as 
Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence. 

"  Just  as  well  she  should  not  know  all,"  Overton 
mused. 

"  It  is  as  well  my  new  friend,  '  Robert  Randall,'  should 
not  find  my  twenty-thousand-dollar  present  from  Mor 
ton,"  Marie  meditated  alone. 

Her  eyes  were  very  dreamy,  as  she  thought  of  Mor 
ton's  unfailing  devotion  and  generous  prodigality.  "  Ah  ! 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  221 

it  was  only  reflected  vanity,"  she  bitterly  exclaimed. 
"  Man's  vows  are  all  written  in  water.  I  was  simply  his 
toy — his  plaything.  He  loved  himself  in  adoring  me." 

She  had  never  a  sigh  for  the  ruined  happiness  of 
Morton's  hearth  and  home.  The  golden  clockwork  of 
her  heart  vibrated  to  no  sympathetic  tone.  Marie  Ash- 
ton  was  a  human  love  machine,  of  boundless  capacity  for 
ringing  an  infinity  of  changes  on  three  old  well-worn 
words.  They  profaned  her  chiselled  lips  no  more  than 
the  simple  phrase,  "I  love  you,"  is  belied  by  the  social 
Messalinas  of  swelldom,  the  swarming  adventuresses  of 
the  Western  world,  or  the  acute-minded  Delilahs  of 
Europe,  whose  inviting  glances  thrill  the  pulses  of  friend, 
lover,  stranger,  and  shine  out  seductively  wherever  man 
is  to  be  preyed  on. 

On,  past  picturesque  and  lovely  Ruatan — dashing  by 
stormy  Bonacca  and  sea-girt  Utilla,  outpost  islands  of 
the  old  Spanish  realm  of  the  Conquistadores — the  Rest 
less  swung  into  beautiful  Truxillo  Bay,  passing  the  first 
point  of  the  mainland  the  daring  Genoese  navigator  dis 
coverer  saw  in  his  world-finding  voyages. 

Far  to  the  west,  uplifting  sentinel  peaks  to  the  tropic 
skies,  the  great  mountains  hanging  over  old  Truxillo 
towered  in  misty  cloud-wreaths. 

"I  will  run  in  and  see  that  all  is  right.  I'll  send  a  boat 
ashore  first  and  warn  our  friends.  You  can  go  off  and  see 
our  secret  agent.  Then  I'll  land  you  and  Mrs.  Laurence. 
This  cargo  is  all  safe.  I'll  run  up  a  few  miles  and  run 
the  rum  ashore.  Our  people  will  be  on  the  lookout." 
So  Captain  Skinner  advised  Overton  as  the  Restless 
swooped  in,  a  graceful  dream  of  beauty,  dear  to  a 
sailor's  eye,  skimming  the  glassy  waters  of  the  bay. 

"Very  good,  Captain,"  said  Overton.  "I  can  make 
all  arrangements  for  Mrs.  Laurence's  comfort.  Won't 
you  go  ashore  ?  " 

"  I  don't  wish  to  leave  the  cargo    alone  a    minute. 


222  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Besides  the  rum,  I  have  also  some  valuable  confidential 
freight  for  the  Windward  Islands.  I  will  see  our  trusty 
secret  friend  here,  when  I  lay  off  Cristales  Springs  to 
night,  and  land  the  rum.  He  will  be  on  the  lookout  for 
my  red-lantern  signals.  Our  code  is  well  known." 

In  an  hour  the  great  snowy  canvas  sails  fluttered 
down,  or  were  folded  silently.  With  a  graceful  swoop, 
under  current  and  rudder,  the  pretty  Restless  dropped 
her  anchor  in  five  fathoms  of  water. 

All  was  now  in  readiness  with  the  strangely  rebaptized 
couple  who  were  to  make  their  last  social  entree  as  Robert 
Randall  and  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence.  Marie's  eyes  rested 
on  a  semicircular  chain  of  bare,  purpled,  high  mountains, 
stretching  to  northwest  and  south — peak  piled  on  peak. 
Lower  valleys  lay  at  their  feet,  dreaming  in  tropic 
luxury  of  tangled  foliage.  Along  the  low  white  beach 
for  miles,  north  and  south,  dense  orange,  palm,  and 
banana  groves  dreamily  lay  under  the  shimmering  heat 
of  the  fiery  vertical  sun. 

Perched  on  a  rocky  plateau,  a  hundred  feet  above  the 
sea-level,  Truxillo's  white  masonry  walls  were  scattered 
for  a  mile  along  this  natural  shelf.  An  old- Spanish  fort 
gallantly  clung  to  the  extreme  rocky  bluffs,  a  fluttering 
nondescript  banner  telling  there  of  the  burlesque  Repub 
lic  of  Honduras.  Ruined  old  roofless  Spanish-built  ban 
queting  halls  yawned  to  the  blue  sky.  Over  archway 
and  postern,  the  royal  arms  of  Spain  still  mocked  the 
newer  order.  Knight  and  caballero,  in  armor  and  lace, 
haughty  Spanish  dames  in  silks  and  velvets,  cowled 
priests  with  massy  chains  and  crucifix  of  stolen  Indian 
gold,  toasted  "  good  "  King  Philip  here,  long  before  the 
Indians  had  ceased  to  slay  the  red  deer  on  Manhattan 
Island.  On  the  plaza,  flagged  with  broad  stones,  an  old 
church,  its  white  walls  shining  in  the  fierce  light,  sent 
forth  a  mournful  clang  from  its  cracked  bells.  Lazy 
half-Indian  sentinels,  turning  on  wall  and  bastion,  sent 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  223 

flashes  of  light  across  the  waves  from  their  twinkling 
bayonets. 

Crowds  of  the  dreamy,  idle,  vicious,  noncha'lant  dwell 
ers  in  this  dead  city  of  three  centuries  rubbed  their  fierce 
dark  eyes  as  the  smart  Yankee  yacht  swept  in — a  fairy 
vision. 

The  schooner's  boat  was  manned.  With  a  few  part 
ing  words  whispered  to  Marie,  Overton  descended  to 
the  boat.  At  ten  boats'  lengths,  he  turned  and  waved 
his  hat  in  a  gay  adieu  to  the  provokingly  lovely  woman, 
who  followed  him  with  those  wonderful  star-like  eyes. 
There  was  not  a  shade  on  her  fair  face  as  she  turned  to 
her  maid,  who  was  astounded  at  the  crowd  of  swarthy 
black  Carib  canoemen  who  swarmed  and  chattered 
around  the  schooner,  in  their  little  boats  dug  out  of  a 
single  log. 

"  Let  no  one  board  the  boat — only  the  Commandante," 
cried  watchful  Jonas  Skinner.  That  precious  twenty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  rum  might  be  in  danger  from 
prying  eyes. 

In  a  few  moments,  Overton's  boat  halted  half-way  to 
the  shore,  and  idly  drifted,  as  the  official  boarding  party 
of  an  officer  and  six  men  signalled  them  not  to  land  until 
they  were  "officially  permitted."  Marie  retired  to  her 
cabin,  as  a  gold-banded,  bedizened  half-breed — decked 
in  a  travesty  of  the  French  uniform,  and  loaded  down 
with  sabre  and  pistols — sprang  over  the  side.  His  bare 
footed,  linen-clad  boatmen,  armed  with  ugly-looking 
revolvers,  hung  alongside. 

In  perfect  confidence,  having  merrily  said  adieu  for 
the  moment  to  Overton,  Marie  was  entirely  at  home, 
until  the  sound  of  angry  wrangling  voices  reached  her 
ears.  Timidly  venturing  on  deck,  she  saw  the  dark-faced 
officer,  scowling  with  rage,  urge  his  boatmen  rapidly 
toward  the  shore.  His  loud  jargon  rang  over  the  water, 
and  he  shook  a  handful  of  papers  menacingly. 


224  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"Captain,  there  is  nothing  wrong,  I  hope,"  Marie 
cried,  as  Jonas  Skinner,  with  cloudy  brow,  approached 
the  quarter-deck. 

"  One  moment,  madam,"  he  hastily  said,  keeping  his 
marine  glasses  fixed  on  Overton's  boat.  The  two  boats 
neared  the  shore  together. 

"  Mr.  Hooper  !  "  Skinner  cried,  with  a  ring  in  his 
voice  which  made  every  man  jump.  "  Stand  by  !  Call 
all  hands." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir  !  "  briefly  the  mate  rejoined,  as  the 
whole  crew  sprang  to  their  stations. 

Turning  to  the  frightened  Marie,  Skinner  said,  with 
some  concern  :  "  They've  got  a  new  Governor  here,  Mrs. 
Laurence.  This  beggarly  post  commandant  is  growling 
because  your  three  names  are  not  on  our  manifest  as 
'passengers.'  .  He's  taken  away  my  papers,  and  gone 
ashore  to  see  the  Governor.  I  hope  it  will  be  all  right." 
Marie  felt  her  heart  suddenly  sink.  "  Mr.  Hooper  !  " 
cried  the  captain.  The  mate  approached.  Only  the 
second  mate  and  two  men  were  in  the  boat  with '  Over- 
ton.  A  whispered  colloquy  ensued  as  both  officers  kept 
their  double  glasses  fixed  on  the  customs  landing.  In 
five  minutes  the  yacht's  boat  was  bounding  swiftly  over 
the  water  on  its  way  back.  But  Tom  Overton  was  miss 
ing.  The  men  dashed  alongside.  The  mate  jumped  to 
the  captain's  side,  handing  him  a  note. 

Jonas  Skinner  hastily  read  it.  "  No,  I'm  d d  ifl  do  ! 

I  can't  lose  seventy-five  thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Hooper  !  " 
he  roared,  "  all  hands  up  anchor.  Get  under  way." 

In  five  minutes  the  anchor  was  apeak,  and  the  men 
sprang  to  their  stations  ready  to  hoist  the  sails.  A 
breeze  rippled  the  water. 

"  Ah  !  my  God,"  Marie  Ashton  cried,  as  a  boom  from 
the  fortress  sent  a  round-shot  humming  noisily  along  a 
few  hundred  yards  away.  "  Captain,"  she  screamed, 
"they  are  firing  at  us." 


I)KL1T,AH     OF     HARI.KM. 


225 


"Go  below,  madam,"  Jonas  yelled,  and  in  a  voice  of 
thunder  then  cried  :  "  Make  all  sail  !  "  For,  tumbling 
over  each  other  in  haste  to  embark,  three  boat-loads 
of  negro  soldiery,  their  bayonets  glistening,  slowly  drew 
away  from  the  strand  toward  the  schooner. 

Marie  Ashton,  from  her  little  cabin  window,  saw  these 
menacing  pursuers  bending  to  their  oars.  Fanny,  the 
frightened  maid,  howled  frantically  at  the  sight :  "  We 
will  all  be  murdered."  Above  them,  yells  and  cries 
were  mingled  with  the  rattling  of  ropes  and  the  drag  of 
the  loosening  sails. 

Marie  rushed  on  deck,  for  the  beautiful  Restless  slowly 
swung  to  seaward,  and,  as  sail  after  sail  was  sheeted 
home,  dashed  saucily  out  to  sea  over  the  blue  curling 
waves.  The  Witch  of  Harlem  could  not  trust  her  own 
eyes,  as  the  stern-faced  Yankee  captain  yelled  :  u  Set 
every  stitch.  Lively  there  !  " 

A  chorus  of  frantic  yells  was  borne  over  the  waters, 
as,  three  hundred  yards  away,  the  three  boats  heavily 
loaded  with  soldiers  swung  into  line. 

"  Look  out,  everybody  ! "  roared  Skinner,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  as,  making  the  wheel  fly  in  his  sinewy  hands, 
he  held  the  flying  sea-wanderer  straight  on  her  course. 
"  Lie  down  all  !  "  he  yelled,  as  he  threw  Marie  Ashton 
to  the  deck,  with  no  lover's  grasp.  A  storm  of  rifle  balls 
whistled  high  over  the  deck.  In  three  minutes  Jonas 
Skinner  gave  up  the  wheel,  and  laughed  as  the  faint  puffs 
of  smoke  from  the  castle  walls  showed  that  the  old 
honeycombed  smooth-bore  cannon  were  at  work.  The 
balls  fell  far  short  of  the  flying  smuggler. 

Raising  Marie,  while  a  sturdy  sailor  took  the  wheel, 
Captain  Jonas  Skinner  assisted  her  below  and  gave  her 
a  half-tumbler  of  his  best  Jamaica.  Marie  was  half- 
fainting. 

The  defiant  Restless  was  scudding  along,  under  all 
her  racing  sails,  like  a  water- witch,  as  Marie,  her  eyes 
15 


226  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

filled  with  tears,  cried  :  "  What  is  this  ?  Where's  Ran 
dall  ?"  Skinner,  in  his  excitement,  did  not  notice  the 
question. 

"  Madam,  we're  all  human  beings.  Life  is  sweet.  I've 
got  the  savings  of  twenty  years  in  this  boat  and  a  fifty- 
thousand-dollar  cargo.  If  these  devils  had  reached  us, 
we  would  have  all  been  in  a  filthy  Honduras  prison  to 
night."  While  Marie  was  stunned  by  this  surprise, 
Captain  Skinner  called :  "  Set  the  American  colors, 
Mr.  Hooper.  We'll  show  them  both  our  flag  and  our 
heels." 

Turning  to  lovely,  tearful  Marie,  he  said  proudly  : 
"  The  devil  himself  couldn't  catch  us  now.  You  have 
got  the  Queen  of  the  Sea  racing  for  your  life." 

"  Can  they  pursue  us  ? "  Marie  faltered,  with  trem 
bling  lip. 

Skinner  laughed,  as  the  dainty  Restless  bounded  from 
surge  to  surge,  the  breeze  freshening  to  almost  a  gale. 
"We  can  beat  anything  afloat  with  sticks  in  her." 

tl  And  Mr.  Randall?"  she  sobbed,  her  presence  of  mind 
returning. 

The  captain's  brow  was  grave.  "  He  is  in  no  real 
danger.  He  has  his  passport,  of  course.  I  told  him 
not  to  go  ashore  armed.  I  am  only  sorry  he  has  prob 
ably  no  money  with  him — but  he  can  get  that  of  our 
agent.  They'll  only  lock  him  up  for  a  few  days.  They 
won't  dare  to  harm  him.  It  was  life  and  death  to  me. 
They  would  throw  me  in  prison,  confiscate  the  boat 
and  cargo,  and  perhaps  cut  my  throat  in  the  calaboose. 
They  have  had  political  changes.  A  revolution  is  brew 
ing.  If  those  hounds  searched  me,  they  would  find  the 
rum,  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  would  be  lost  as 
well  as  our  liberty.  I'm  sorry  for  Randall.  He  can 
telegraph  to  the  State  Department,  and  the  United 
States  Minister  at  Guatemala  City.  They'll  let  him  go 
soon.  Now,  you  take  a  sleep.  The  wind  is  freshening. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  227 

We  have  tornadoes  here.  To-morrow  night  you'll  be 
three  hundred  miles  from  here." 

"  But  where  am  .1  going,  captain  ?  "  the  lovely  Witch 
of  Harlem  asked.  "  What  can  I  do  alone  ? " 

The  captain  scratched  his  head.  "  It  had  to  be — 1 
could  not  help  it.  Let  me' put  a  hundred  miles  between 
us  and  these  black  devils.  The  United  States  never  pro 
tects  its  citizens  abroad.  I  am  considering  all  •  interests. 
Don't  fret  about  Randall.  Rest  now,  and  take  your 
dinner.  You're  as  safe  here  as  in  your  own  home.  We 
will  decide  to-night.  Jose  Oliviera  told  me  to  guard  you 
as  if  you  were  his  own  daughter."  And  the  keen-eyed 
sailor  went  to  his  nightly  duties,  and  cigar,  for  the  shores 
of  Honduras  were  fading  fast  away. 

"  Now,  madam,"  said  the  captain,  cheerfully,  three 
hours  later,  "  I  have  thought  all  over.  I'll  run  you 
down  to  Colon.  You  have  a  telegraph  there.  Randall 
can  soon  join  you.  You  can  wire  to  our  agent.  You 
can  also  communicate  with  America.  If  you  find  it 
necessary,  you  can  go  on  to  Europe,  or  back  to  the 
United  States.  I  will  sell  my  rum  there  at  a  good  profit. 
I  have  some  cargo  for  the  Windward  Islands.  Think  it 
over  for  a  half-hour,  and  let  me  know.  You  could  get  to 
Havana  from  the  Windward  Islands.  If  you  wish  any 
thing,  simply  tell  me.  My  own  boy  will  wait  on  you, 
and  sleep  in  this  outer  cabin." 

Marie,  seated  on  deck  in  the  moonlight,  turned  over 
the  whole  situation.  Like  an  inspiration,  she  remem 
bered  that  Overton  had  his  concealed  twenty  thousand 
dollars  inside  his  coat.  "  That's  plenty  for  the  present. 
He  is  cool  and  boundless  in  resource.  I'll  go  down  to 
Colon  and  communicate  with  him.  We  can  then  go  on 
to  Europe,  and  to  the  East,  where  no  questions  are 
asked." 

So  the  lovely  newly  baptized  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence 
acceded  to  the  captain's  sensible  plan.  "You  see,"  said 


228  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

he,  "  if  anything  should  happen  to  Randall,  which  God 
forbid  !  you  are  in  a  place  to  move  at  once  in  any  direc 
tion,  for  business  or  safety,  in  the  quickest  way.  The 
flight  was  forced  on  me." 

So  the  storm-defying  Restless  flew  along  the  shores 
of  Central  America,  and  five  days  later  "  Mrs.  Eleanor 
Laurence  "  was  in  peace  and  comfort  at  the  best  hotel 
in  Colon — the  old  "  Aspinwall."  Keeping  her  own  coun 
sel,  Marie  Ashton  decided  on  her  future  course.  "  I  have 
this  fortune.  My  God  !  if  I  should  be  taken  sick,  I 
have  no  one  to  trust.  I  cannot  depend  on  this  yellow 
idiot  Fanny.  I  will  inform  myself  of  Tom,  and  then 
leave  Colon." 

At  Marie's  earnest  request,  Captain  Skinner  used  the 
telegraph  lavishly  to  their  Truxillo  agent.  After  a  day, 
the  worst  of  news  was  confirmed.  Randall  was  harshly 
treated  on  account  of  the  escape  of  the  Restless.  Already 
hurried  away  to  the  interior  to  the  capital  of  Honduras, 
he  was,  under  a  strong  escort  of  soldiers,  climbing  the 
giant  peaks,  and  crossing  the  deadly  forests  with  their 
dangerous  rivers  to  Tegucigalpa,  seven  thousand  feet  in 
air. 

"  It  will  be  months  before  he  is  freed,"  loyal  Captain 
Skinner  said.  "  Write  him  what  you  want.  Telegraph 
your  safe  address  in  Europe  to  our  agent  at  Truxillo 
now.  I  will  also  write  him.  I'll  send  all  the  letters  to 
our  man  there,  and  tell  him  to  spare  no  money  in  their 
delivery.  Now,  I  sail  to-morrow.  It  is  yellow-fever 
time.  Take  my  advice — either  take  the  steamer  back 
North,  or  go  on  to  Paris  :  the  French  boat  sails  to 
morrow.  Write  to  Jose  Oliviera  by  me.  I'll  explain  all 
to  him.  He  will  work  for  Randall's  release." 

"  You  are  right,"  Marie  Ashton  said.  "  It  is  my  only 
safety,"  she  mused. 

When  the  Restless  danced  out  of  the  harbor  next  day, 
Captain  Jonas  Skinner  carried  the  finest  gold  chronome- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  229 

ter  and  chain  that  Colon  could  furnish,  with  an  inscrip 
tion,  "  To  Captain  Jonas  Skinner,  of  the  Restless,  from 
Eleanor  Laurence." 

"  She's  the  sweetest  thing  in  woman  guise  my  eyes 
ever  rested  on,"  enthusiastically  cried  Skinner,  as  he  saw 
the  smoke  of  the  French  steamer  fade  into  the  horizon 
next  day.  It  bore  Eleanor  Laurence,  once  the  Witch 
of  Harlem,  to*  strange  lands. 

As  she  rested  in  the  luxurious  ease  of  the  boat,  her 
indomitable  heart  turned  far  away  to  Tom  Overton. 
She  did  not  know  that  her  laughing  adieu  in  Truxillo 
Harbor  was  **  Good-by  forevermore  !  "  And  the  white 
stars  swinging  over  her  head  guided  the  stanch  steamer 
safely  to  the  shores  of  France. 

Tom  Overton,  rage  in  his  heart,  had  waited  on  the 
strand  of  Truxillo,  after  his  insolent  questioning,  with  a 
frontier  traveller's  scorn  of  an  inferior  race.  "  I'll  not  let 
them  know  that  I  speak  Spanish,"  he  thought  at  once. 
"  It  gives  me  a  double  power." 

A  self-important  port  official  showered  him  with  ques 
tions  in  broken  English  as  to  why  his  companion  and 
himself  were  not  regularly  entered  as  passengers. 

"It's  the  fault  of  the  ship's  people,  Commandante,"  he 
answered  smoothly.  The  cool  gambler  looked  forward 
to  a  fine  of  a  few  dollars  only.  But  fate  was  against  him. 

When  the  yells  of  the  half-breed  soldiery  startled  him 
— as  he  waited  for  the  captain's  arrival — Tom  looked 
out,  and  his  eyes  started  from  his  head  as  he  saw  the 
white-winged  Restless  speeding  to  sea. 

"This  is  utter  ruin  to  me,"  he  gasped.  "By  God! 
there  goes  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved — and  two  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars.  This  is  hell  !  "  And  he  gnashed 
his  teeth,  as  he  reflected  that  he  was  unarmed  and  help 
less. 

In  twenty  minutes  the  baffled  commandant  stormed  up 
to  him,  pistol  in  hand.  "  Vamos — adelante,  Gringo"  he 


230  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

cried.  No  explanation  was  permitted.  A  murderous 
hound  of  a  ragged  soldier  pricked  him  with  his  bayonet. 
In  five  minutes,  Tom  Overtoil  was  locked  up  in  the  old 
Cuartel  Prison,  with  a  stone  jar  of  water  and  a  pile  of 
dirty  cassava  bread  as  his  sumptuous  dinner.  With  im 
potent  rage,  he  yet  kept  quiet. 

Overton  reflected  that  he  had  money — a  fortune — with 
him.  "  By  God  !  they'll  cut  my  throat  if  they  suspect. 
I'll  have  to  suffer  a  little."  And  he  threw  himself  on 
the  rawhide-covered  bed.  Showered  with  every  insult, 
he  was  awaked  at  dawn,  next  day.  The  brutal  curses 
and  menaces  of  his  guards  moved  him  not.  Tom  Over- 
ton  had  faced  Comanche,  Sioux,  and  Apache — he  had 
wagered  his  life  on  the  quickness  of  his  trigger  finger  a 
dozen  times — the  war  and  his  criminal  life  had  also 
hardened  him  to  patience.  When  the  Alcalde  loftily 
questioned  him,  he  simply  asked  for  the  American  Con 
sul. 

This  man — a  half-breed,  steeped  in  local  swindles  and 
smuggling  intrigues— listened  carelessly  to  Overton's 
story. 

"  Have  you  money?  "  he  said,  in  broken  English. 

"  No,  I  have  only  my  passport  and  a  few  dollars  in  my 
pocket." 

"  Then,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  suffer,"  said  the 
greedy  official.  Overton  asked  for  Jose  Oliviera's  agent. 
A  swarthy  gleam  shot  across  the  consul's  face.  "  What 
do  you  come  here  for  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Can't  you  see,"  said  Overton,  "  I  am  beguiled  ashore, 
without  my  papers  or  baggage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  give  a  very  poor  account  of  yourself," 
said  the  consul,  as  he  refused  to  telegraph  to  Oliviera  for 
Tom,  and  left  him  to  his  fate.  "  Your  schooner  will  be 
classed  as  a  pirate." 

At  night,  Oliviera's  agent  finally  visited  him  in  prison, 
and  gave  him  a  hundred  silver  dollars,  with  a  letter  to 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  23! 

their  great  protector  in  Tegucigalpa.  "  I'll  write  at  once 
to  Don  Jose,"  he  said  kindly,  as  he  left  a  bottle  of 
whiskey  and  some  cigars.  "  I  am  afraid  of  my  life. 
This  escapade  has  been  ruinous  to  me.  Now,  I  have 
the  decision  in  your  case.  They  will  send  you  up  to 
Tegucigalpa  to  be  tried  for  conspiracy  against  the  cus 
toms.  It's  a  fearful  trip  of  twenty  days.  I'll  wait,  and 
bribe  the  escort  soldiers  to  let  you  have  a  mule  and  treat 
you  decently.  I'll  give  them  some  things  for  your 
journey.  But  once  there,  our  local  friend  can  telegraph 
to  Don  Jose,  and  you  can  get  out  by  Amapala,  on  the 
Pacific,  and  go  home  by  Panama  and  Colon,  or  to  San 
Francisco.  God  be  with  you  !  Be  wary.  Hide  your 
watch  and  chain.  They  would,  cut  your  throat  here  for 
five  dollars.  I  have  fear  for  myself.  I  do  not  dare  to 
do  more.  Ah  !  it  is  unfortunate." 

In  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  next  day,  the  frightened 
secret  agent  darted  out  from  a  palm-grove,  as  the  ser 
geant  and  three  men  trotted  alongside  of  Overton's 
mule.  A  few  parting  words,  a  handing  over  of  some 
money  all  round,  and  surreptitious  comforts,  and  Tom 
Overton  plunged — a  prisoner — into  the  defiles  of  the 
great  mountains  with  their  fringing  forests,  alive  with 
deadly  reptiles  and  wildest  beast.  He  toiled  through  the 
gloomy  wilderness  where  stout  Cortez  buried  three  hun 
dred  of  his  invincible  marauders. 

Twenty  days  later,  more  dead  than  alive,  Tom  Over- 
ton  was  thrust  into  the  common  jail  at  the  mountain 
capital  with  the  commonest  felons  as  his  companions. 
The  irony  of  fate  weighed  him  down.  While  appealing 
at  once  for  justice,  and  the  secret  aid  of  Oliviera's  power 
ful  friend,  Overton  beat  his  head  madly  with  his  fists,  as 
he  thought  of  defenceless  Marie  Ashton — lost  to  him 
perhaps  forever — and  with  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  her  hands  !  Could  he  trust  the  lovely  waif  ? 

He  divided  his  loose  silver  with  the  humble  escort,  who 


232  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

looked  for  a  double  gratuity  on  their  return  ;  he  wrote  a 
brief  letter  to  the  frightened  agent  at  Truxillo,  and  now 
revolved  in  his  mind  how  to  use  his  money  to  effect  his 
liberty.  In  a  few  hours  he  was  warned  that  this  friend 
would  see  him  soon.  The  air  was  thick  with  revolu 
tionary  rumors.  The  hot  blood  of  the  mountaineers  was 
at  boiling  point  ;  and  plodding  step  by  step  over  the 
terrific  defiles  behind  him,  Henry  Morton,  his  bloodshot 
eyes  fixed  on  the  distant  mountain-ranges,  was  neari-ng 
his  enemy.  While  these  two  drew  toward  each  other, 
for  fate's  fell  purposes,  Marie  Ashton's  marvellous  face 
and  low,  velvety  voice  were  charming  the  voyagers  on  the 
French  steamer. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  BATTLE  DAY  WITH  THE  HONDURAS  REVOLUTIONISTS. 
FACE  TO  FACE.  MORTON  WIPES  OUT  HIS  SCORE. 
TREASURE  TROVE.  YELLOW  JACK. 

WHILE  Overton  lingered  in  the  jail  at  Tegucigalpa, 
Harry  Morton,  the  avenger  of  love,  fretting  on  the  New 
Orleans  steamer,  entered  Truxillo  Harbor.  The  old 
Italian  millionnaire  steamer  owner  at  New  Orleans,  who 
had  for  twenty  years  intrigued  with  the  thieving  Hon 
duras  officials,  grasping  Morton's  hand,  said,  as  the  boat 
swung  into  the  mighty  river  :  "  Beware  of  Spanish  Hon 
duras — a  land  of  treachery,  fevers,  murder — the  home  of 
refugees  and  vilest  criminals.  Conceal  your  business — 
your  property.  Watch  over  yourself  night  and  day.  I 
have  to  send  my  ships  to  its  shores.  I  would  not  go  in 
the  fatal  interior  for  a  king's  ransom.  It  is  sown  with 
the  graves  of  the  unavenged." 

Morton  explained  that  he  had  taken  no  passport.  "  I 
am  just  *  Henry  Anderson '  for  a  month  or  so.  I  will  go 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  233 

over  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  come  home  via  San  Fran 
cisco.  I  will  have  stanch  friends  at  the  capital,  and  I 
have  strong  letters  to  the  United  States  Minister." 

"  Go — may  God  protect  you  !  "  said  the  hospitable  old 
millionnaire  fruit  merchant.  He  sighed  to  see  the  splen 
did  fellow  depart. 

"One  other — perhaps  one  other  sacrifice,"  the  gray- 
headed  Italian  sadly  said,  as  he  regained  the  shore  in  his 
tug. 

But  Harry  Morton,  undaunted  and  with  every  faculty 
heightened  by  his  mental  fever,  keenly  watched  the 
dozen  passengers  on  the  Oteri.  A  grumbling  old  Cuban 
ex-general,  a  stray  aged  Spanish  doctor,  two  or  three 
petty  Italian  traders  along  the  coast,  and  a  New  Orleans 
beer  "  drummer,"  going  to  timidly  visit  the  coast  towns — 
not  leaving  the  steamer  as  a  lodging  place — were  the 
principal  passengers.  Besides  these,  several  half-breed, 
mongrel  Honduranean  youths  were  returning  from  more 
or  less  "schooling  "  at  the  North.  These  precocious  lads 
had  picked  up  every  known  American  vice,  and  a  smatter 
ing  of  our  language.  Proud,  lazy,  vicious,  and  violent — 
they  were  the  result  of  mestizo  breeding,  and  a  thoroughly 
precocious  dissipation. 

With  considerable  personal  reticence,  Morton,  as  the 
steamer  neared  Truxillo,  yet  had  gained  from  the  cabin 
gossip  the  general  destinations  of  the  voyagers.  After 
a  conference  with  the  jolly  Genoese  captain — for  these 
fruit  steamers  sail  under  the  Italian  flag — the  young 
banker  found  the  least  murderous-looking  of  the  Hon 
duranean  youths  was  Don  Fernando  Rodriguez  Montaldo 
de  Ortega — a  wild  nephew  of  the  pompous  Secretary  of 
War  of  this  opera-bouffe  republic.  He  was  going  back 
to  the  capital,  over  that  terrific  and  lonely  road,  where 
gorges,  cliffs,  swollen  rivers,  treacherous  thieves,  millions 
of  poisonous  insects  and  snakes,  with  roving  murderers, 
make  the  narrow  trail,  dug  out  along  its  beetling  cliffs, 


234  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

or  winding  through  the  miasmal  death-haunted  forests,  a 
voyage  perilous. 

"  He's  better  than  nobody,  after  all,"  Morton  thought. 
"He  knows,  at  least,  the  road."  With  no  thought  of 
turning  back — driven  by  shame  to  recover  at  least  a  part 
of  Claire's  future  endowment — goaded  on  by  a  passion 
ate  revenge,  in  the  hope  of  yet  finding  a  path  to  the 
missing  Witch  of  Harlem,  Morton  imparted  to  the  yellow 
youth  his  desire  to  go  to  the  capital. 

"  To  see  some  mines,  I  suppose  ? "  murmured  the  lazy 
lad,  cigarette  in  mouth. 

Morton  nodded.     "  It's  a  secret." 

"Oh,  yes,"  smiled  the  youth.  "It's  always  so.  We 
don't  bother  with  the  mines." 

Standing  on  the  customs  landing,  under  the  walls  of 
the  old  castle  of  Truxillo,  Harry  Morton,  on  a  sweltering 
day,  guided  by  the  youth — who  had  some  real  local  pres 
tige,  a  reflection  of  his  uncle — passed  his  effects,  and 
was  permitted  to  see  the  "acting  American  Consul." 

While  Don  Fernando  renewed  his  Truxillo  flirtations 
—for  he  was  the  one  travelled  Don  Juan  of  the  old  city — 
Morton  learned,  from  an  accurate  description,  of  Over- 
ton's  probable  whereabouts,  and  gained  the  whole  story 
of  the  flying  Restless.  His  letter  to  the  United  States 
Minister  procured  him  a  laissez-passcr  passport  certifi 
cate. 

Disguising  all  interest  in  the  Overton  episode,  Morton 
gave  a  dinner  at  the  Hotel  Crespo  to  the  Consul,  Don 
Fernando,  and  the  murderous-looking  Commandante. 
Don  Fernando  had  obtained  mules  and  Indians  for  the 
three-hundred-mile  journey,  and  was  now  anxious  to 
leave  early  next  day.  For  revolution  was  in  the  air. 

Good  smuggled  champagne  soon  loosened  the  Com- 
rnandante's  tongue.  "  Beware,  my  amigos,  of  the  revo 
lution.  By  our  telegrafo  we  hear  of  a  great  unrest  at 
Tegucigalpa.  Don  Fernando,  you  will  surely  meet  the 


DELIT.AH    OF    HARLEM.  235 

mail  runners  on  the  road.  Here  is  an  order  to  all  the 
alcaldes  of  the  towns  along  the  road  to  protect  you.  If 
you  run  into  any  trouble,  leave  the  road,  and  hide  in  the 
ranches,  until  the  storm  is  over.  If  your  good  uncle 
should  be  proscribed — you  know  what  our  wars  are— 
you  would  be  "  (he  made  a  motion  of  a  sweeping  throat- 
cutting)  "  and  the  senor  Americano,  all  the  same." 

"True,"  said  the  cunning,  half-cowardly  youth.  "I 
will  be  watchful.  We  can  always  run  over  to  the  Guate 
mala  border." 

Morton,  though  chilled  at  heart,  was  still  too  proud  to 
turn  back.  When  the  Consul  adroitly  led  the  Comman- 
dante  on  to  describe  his  official  visit  to  the  Restless,  Mor 
ton's  blood  boiled,  as  the  soldier  floridly  dilated  on  the 
wondrous  beauty  of  the  senora  on  the  boat. 

"  It  was  Marie,  by  God  !  "  he  groaned,  his  heart  riven 
with  mad  jealousy.  Was  she  only  a  vile  adventuress? 
Had  Tom  Overtoil  carried  her  away  to  disguise  his  rob 
bery?  The  chance  was  at  least  open  to  establish  her 
comparative  innocence. 

The  young  banker  was  further  convinced  as  the  Com- 
mandante  described  the  colored  servant's  obsequious 
attention  to  her  mistress.  "  Yes,  that's  Fanny,  the  maid," 
Morton  mentally  decided.  "  Now,  Marie  is,  after  all,  a 
lying  fraud — for  her  telegram  to  me  was  forged,  and  sent 
on  to  throw  us  off  the  track.  Heartless  !  " 

Swallowing  his  wine  in  great  draughts,  behind  a  blue 
smoke  cloud,  he  carelessly  asked  :  u  Where  did  this 
smuggling  vessel  run  to — do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Diablo  /  they  can  run  over  to  the  Windward 
Islands,  or  to  Cuba,  or  any  Nicaraguan  port.  They  can 
sell  their  cargo,  and  land  the  lady  anywhere.  Then  they 
will  get  a  return  cargo  of  logwood,  rosewood,  mahogany, 
and  hides  at  any  port.  They  will  clear  back  to  New 
York.  Our  authorities  cannot  touch  them.  We  have  no 
navy  !  " 


236  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

As  Morton  bowed  his  hilarious  guests  out,  in  the  still 
ness  of  the  old  plaza,  before  whose  mouldering  colon 
nade  of  the  ruined  banquet  hall,  William  Walker,  the 
great  filibuster  general,  was  shot  to  death,  the  half-crazed 
young  man  swore  to  follow  this  quest  to  the  death.  He 
was  now  alone.  Don  Fernando  was  making  a  night  of 
it,  with  the  Truxillo  gallants.  Morton  wandered  out 
before  the  antique  church.  The  call  of  the  lazy  sentinel 
sounded  musically  from  the  walls,  and  the  great  white 
stars  mirrored  themselves  in  the  lovely  bay.  From  the 
low  sandy  shore  came  the  soft  murmur  of  the  breakers, 
washing  a  beach  ten  leagues  long. 

Turning  toward  the  towering  mountains,  dividing  him 
from  his  deadly  foe,  Henry  Morton  swore  that  only 
death  should  decide  their  quarrel  when  he  faced  Tom 
Overton. 

The  wary  Consul  received  a  sheaf  of  telegraphic  in 
quiries,  which  Morton  confided  to  his  official  dignity. 
At  the  first  village  on  their  route  of  twenty-five  days' 
toilsome  march,  the  Consul  promised  to  telegraph  the 
whereabouts  of  the  imprisoned  "Robert  Randall." 

When  the  wild  bugles  assembled  the  ragged  garrison  of 
Truxillo  at  dawn,  Morton  and  Don  Fernando,  mounted 
on  diminutive  mules  of  supernatural  wisdom,  filed  out 
into  the  overhanging  tangle  of  the  Honduranean  jungle. 
The  Consul  and  Commandante,  with  the  local  habit  of 
rising  with  the  birds,  waved  adieu  after  exhausting  the 
ceremonies  of  the  stirrup  cup.  Armed  to  the  teeth,  the 
two  strange  companions  rode  along,  their  bare-legged 
retainers  driving  a  couple  of  pack-mules.  These  men 
were  clad  in  a  single  cotton  garment,  bare-headed,  with 
rough  rawhide  sandals,  and  a  vicious-looking  machete  at 
their  side  :  the  Indians,  with  loud  shrill  shouts,  urged  the 
mules  on  with  judicious  profanity,  deftly  rolling  corn- 
husk  cigarettes,  as  they  kept  up  their  easy  jog-trot. 

Far   down    on   the   lovely   bay,    as  the  morning  sun 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  237 

sparkled  on  its  dancing  waters,  the  canoes  of  the  coal- 
black  Carib  natives  were  returning — poled  along  in  the 
shallow  waters — laden  with  superb  fish  and  heralded  by 
mournful  pagan-like  blasts  from  their  conch-shell  bugles. 

Ten  miles  from  Truxillo  the  riders  left  the  lowland  and 
ascended  a  fearful  gorge,  whose  narrow  trail,  with  a 
dashing  brook  hundreds  of  feet  below,  was  made  step  by 
step  of  square  stones,  laid  down  for  the  old  Conquista- 
dores  by  the  Indian  slaves  who  died  under  sword,  spear, 
and  the  lash.  Closing  his  eyes,  Morton  was  forced  to 
trust  the  mule.  His  head  swam.  The  terrific  heat 
enervated  him,  and  he  listlessly  watched  the  advance 
runners  lopping  off  overhanging  poisonous  branches,  and 
sweeping  away  bushes  with  easy  strokes  of  their  heavy 
razor-edged  machetes.  Snake  and  scorpion,  centipede 
and  tarantula,  swarmed  upon  these  thorn-armed  boughs. 

Nothing  daunted,  Morton  struggled  along,  his  set 
teeth  clinched,  as  he  dreamed  in  his  angry  heart  :  "  His 
blood  or  mine  !  "  For,  far  beyond  the  treasure  he  sought 
to  regain,  Marie  Ashton,  the  beauteous  enchantress,  was 
the  prize  he  fought  for  in  this  deadly  wilderness. 

On,  crawling  upward  for  hours,  the  first  peak  was 
gained.  At  the  summit  Morton  turned,  at  Bella  Vista, 
and  had  his  last  look  at  the  bay  first  ploughed  by  Co 
lumbus'  keel.  Resolutely  urging  his  mule  forward,  he 
plunged  for  hours  over  terrific  descents,  where  the  sure 
footed  mule  dropped  from  stone  to  stone  like  a  mountain 
goat. 

At  night,  in  a  dirty  straw-thatched  hovel,  with  squalid, 
half-naked  women  and  children  around,  in  a  maze  of 
dogs,  pigs,  and  chickens  wandering  around,  the  clubman 
sweltered  in  a  hammock,  swung  in  the  one  room,  and 
clutching  his  pistol  holster,  still  belted  on  him,  twisted 
his  fingers  in  the  cord  by  which  the  weapon  was  swung 
round  his  neck.  The  wildest  dreams  haunted  him.  He 
was  now  face  to  face  with  Overton.  Struggle  and 


238  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

visions  of  fight  lingered  around  him,  until  some  taunt 
ing  fairy  of  the  night  brought  him  dreams  of  dazzling 
Marie  Ashton,  lying  once  more  prone  in  his  arms — 
her  rich  red  lips  pressed  to  his  own,  as  on  that  moonlight 
night  when  the  swift  Fantine  bore  them  out  into  the 
silver  radiance  of  the  moonlit  Sound.  Alas  !  his  weary 
arms  opened  empty — at  morn. 

Up  with  the  dawn,  on  through  bits  of  opening,  with 
wild-looking  cattle  here  and  there,  under  great  arches 
of  the  enormous  trees,  where  the  daylight  glimmered 
through  tangled  vines,  brilliant  with  richest  colors  of 
flowers,  dazzling  the  eye,  they  pressed.  Myriads  of 
parrots,  macaws,  monkeys,  and  great  birds  made  the 
woods  ring  with  discordant  cries.  The  armadillo  scuttled 
away  in  his  horny  armor,  and  the  savage  yells  of  the 
escort  announced  hourly  the  death  of  some  deadly  snake 
under  the  heavy  machete  blade.  Don  Fernando,  taciturn, 
lazy,  and  inert,  lolled  in  his  saddle  and  nursed  his  cig 
arette.  Morton,  preoccupied,  nursed  his  growing  thirst 
for  a  double  vengeance.  Only  a  few  straggling  huts — an 
occasional  half-naked  runner,  staff  in  hand,  a  gourd  full 
of  water  slung  at  his  belt,  passed,  puffing  his  never-end 
ing  cigarette. 

Four  hundred  years  of  Spanish  rule  had  sent  the  great 
tribes  of  this  mysterious  half-explored  land  to  the  misery 
of  a  dreadful  death.  They  died  drudging  in  the  river 
beds  for  the  scanty  grains  of  floating  gold. 

Two  days  of  this  voyaging  brought  Morton  to  the  first 
town,  a  straggling  mud-hut  village  of  the  plain.  It  was 
only  a  little  less  squalid  than  the  Indian  clustered  huts 
along  the  road.  The  Alcalde  of  Sonaguera  handed  Don 
Fernando  two  despatches.  One  for  Morton,  in  Spanish, 
announced  :  "  Man  still  here  in  prison,  awaiting  trial  for 
complicity  in  escape  of  schooner  and  attempted  smug 
gling."  Morton's  muscles  nerved  themselves  to  whip 
cord.  Onward,  onward,  his  mad  hate  urged  him. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  239 

Don  Fernando  and  the  Alcalde,  with  gloomy  brows, 
studied  the  other :  "  Imminent  danger  of  trouble  at  the 
capital." 

The  .Alcalde  gravely  informed  Morton  that  a  dissatis 
fied  general  proposed  to  put  an  end  to  the  arbitrary  rule 
of  General  Don  Luis  Bogran,  the  tyrannous  President. 
This  self-developed  despot — once  an  obscure  banana 
planter — emulated  in  his  greed,  rascality,  and  robberies 
the  bloody  tiger  of  Guatemala — Barrios.  Bogran's  armed 
heel  crushed  servile  Honduras.  It  was  innate  cowardice 
and  lack  of  nerve  alone  which  kept  him  from  filling  a 
thousand  graves  with  butchered  political  victims,  and 
watering  the  plains  with  blood  in  imitation  of  Barrios' 
appalling  career. 

"  We  are  all  right,"  Don  Fernando  lazily  remarked,  as 
they  drew  away  from  the  town,  after  a  noon  rest.  "  We 
can  get  over  to  Guatemala  by  a  mountain  road.  I  will 
hide  myself  there,  and  you  can  wait  or  get  down  to  the 
Pacific  coast.  Vamos,  amigo  !  "  he  cried,  spurring  his 
weary  mule. 

"  But  Bogran  will  conquer.  He  has  all  the  artillery — 
most  of  the  soldiers — all  the  money.  He  is  friendly 
with  the  band  of  brave  American  miners  in  the 
mountains." 

"What  will  he  do  with  the  revolutionists?"  Morton 
asked. 

"Oh  !  shoot  the  whole  lot  of  officers  and  turn  the  rest 
of  the  men  into  the  army,"  placidly  said  Don  Fernando, 
taking  a  fresh  cigarette. 

Three  days  brought  them  to  the  great  silent  Aguan 
.River,  its  swollen  current  winding  through  trackless 
groves  of  palm,  mahogany,  cedar,  and  huge  tropic  trees. 
In  its  jungles  the  tiger  and  wild  boar  roamed.  Ferried 
across  the  tide  by  the  Indians  of  a  squalid  village,  again 
the  voyagers  plunged  into  the  almost  unbroken  gloom 
of  the  reeking,  steaming,  pathless  forests.  Occasional 


240  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

lonely  plains,  covered  with  wild  cattle,  gave  them  vistas 
of  the  far-rising  mountains,  covered  with  straggling 
pines,  over  which  they  must  plod  in  a  half-dozen  toilsome 
ascents  before  the  final  spinal  ridge  was  reached. 

Morton  was  now  hardened  to  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
a  Honduranean  wilderness.  The  animating  purpose  of 
an  impending  revenge  buoyed  him  up.  Camping  in  the 
forest,  his  hammock  swung  from  tree-branches,  and 
gazing  on  the  untold  miseries  of  the  half-starving  natives, 
the  banker  realized  what  a  mocking  Paradise  of  the  eye 
this  fever-haunted  land  was  in  truth.  Lonely  graves, 
with  a  rude  cross  of  sticks  tied  together  with  rawhide, 
told  of  the  deadly  work  of  beast,  snake,  or  furtive  mur 
derer.  Huge  cairns  of  stone  marked  these,  where  the 
ignorant  Indian  passer-by  cast  his  pebble,  as  a  passing 
tribute  to  the  unknown  dead. 

Onward,  up  the  great  valley  of  the  Aguan,  the  little 
cavalcade  plodded,  now  over  arid  plains,  covered  with 
yellow  logwood  shrub,  wild  stony-sided  mountains  rising 
around,  through  mystic  unexplored  forests  ;  and  the  wan 
derers  toiled  into  Olanchito,  with  its  church  three 
hundred  years  old,  one  half-Indian  priest  ministering  to 
the  black-robed  dejected  women  of  the  decayed  town — a 
forgotten  city  of  the  plain. 

Here  all  was  commotion.  The  wild  Olancheros — 
machete  on  thigh  and  armed  en  banditti — were  straggling 
away  to  future  fields  of  rapine  and  carnage.  Matters 
neared  a  crisis. 

"We  will  still  go  ahead,"  cried  Don  Fernando.  "It 
is  time  to  cross  to  Guatemala  when  two  days  from 
Tegucigalpa." 

Over  the  Aguan — now  divided — beyond  Arinal,  in  the 
closing  mountain  gaps,  the  little  train  wound  up  to  a 
huge  spinal  ridge,  from  whence,  after  toilsome  hours,  the 
animals  slipping  on  the  dry  pine-needles,  they  perilously 
dropped  into  the  round  valley  of  Jocon,  in  the  heart  of 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  24! 

the  mountains.  Here,  straggling  watch-fires  and  wild 
fandango  told  of  the  coming  revolution.  The  hill-dwellers 
were  all  in  arms. 

Two  days  of  frightful  climbing  found  the  voyagers 
clinging  like  flies  to  the  terrible  trails,  winding  along  the 
bluffs  of  the  Mangalile  River.  Here  over  these  flinty  hill 
sides,  where  a  single  misstep  meant  a  fall  of  two  thousand 
feet  to  the  river  below,  tearing  along  in  its  deep  gorge, 
they  passed  over  the  death-scene  of  Cortez's  exhausted 
followers,  who  perished  here  by  scores  in  olden  times. 
After  a  sheer  descent  of  five  thousand  feet,  dragging 
over  beetling  mountain-cliffs  for  weary  miles,  Morton 
spent  two  days  wandering  in  the  awful  glen  of  the 
mysterious  Mangalile,  peopled  with  its  devils,  witches, 
and  ghosts.  From  time  to  time,  even  his  stout  heart 
sank. 

Grasping  his  rifle  stock  or  revolver  butt,  his  heated 
pulses  throbbed  only  for  vengeance.  Several  stragglers 
had  now  joined  them.  The  gloomy  trails,  a  foot  only  in 
width  at  dangerous  places,  were  thronged  with  fleeing 
women,  the  aged,  and  squalid,  half-starved  children.  It 
was  a  time  of  horror. 

Jaded  and  desperate,  their  supplies  half -exhausted, 
the  climbers  passed  the  old  decayed  Indian  town  of 
Mangalile,  and  climbed  the  enormous  water-shed  ridges 
toward  Tegucigalpa.  From  there — if  war  were  not  in 
progress — a  descent  to  the  Pacific  and  escape  from  this 
tropic  hell  on  earth  was  possible.  Beast  and  serpent, 
venomous  insect,  poisonous  flying  and  creeping  things, 
ceased  to  annoy  Morton.  The  heated  poisonous  steam 
of  the  low  swampy  forests  gave  way  to  the  chill -moun 
tain  air.  Sullen,  with  blood  madness  flushing  his  eyes, 
he  neared  the  foe  he  sought.  At  night,  in  all  the  yells 
and  screams  of  the  never-silent  forest,  the  wild  jaguar's 
hoarse  cry  called  to  him  for  vengeance. 

Three  days,  now,  only  lay  between  them  and  the  cap- 
16 


242  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

ital.  They  passed  the  Guatemala  trail,  deciding  finally 
to  keep  on  the  road.  Half-starved,  they  ceased  to  fear 
even  death. 

At  night,  one  day  from  the  old  capital,  by  the  little 
watch-fire,  their  Indians  lay  along  like  dogs.  In  the  two 
hammocks,  Morton  and  the  now  frightened  Don  Fer 
nando  half-slumbered,  their  arms  near. 

With  a  snort  a  hardy  mountain  pony  pulled  up,  as  a 
mounted  man  dashed  down  the  trail.  "Quien  vive  ?  "  cried 
Don  Fernando,  forgetting  his  laziness,  as  he  cocked  his 
Winchester;  He  could  murder  at  a  pinch. 

Morton's  heavy  frontier  revolver  was  also  levelled  at 
the  intruder.  In  a  moment's  parley,  the  youth  recog 
nized  a  loyal  Government  messenger.  His  story  was 
soon  told.  The  storm  of  revolution  had  filled  the  streets 
with  dead  and  dying.  The  President  was  driven  out  of 
the  capital,  with  his  Cabinet.  The  jails  were  all  thrown 
open.  The  populace,  sacking  the  drinking  booths,  were 
in  madness. 

This  messenger  was  one  of  a  dozen,  riding  for  life  to 
summon  secret  aid  from  Guatemala.  Don  Fernando 
learned  that  the  evicted  Dictator  Bogran  and  his  half- 
defeated  army  were  twenty  miles  away,  awaiting  rein 
forcements  to  recapture  the  capital.  He  had  saved  the 
Gatling  guns,  but  the  artillery  and  main  stores  were  with 
the  rebels  under  half  a  dozen  self-styled  generals.  Six 
hundred  desperate  convicts,  now  liberated,  with  arms 
from  the  Government  arsenal,  reinforced  the  human 
devils  in  possession  of  the  old  capital,  whose  heavy 
buildings  around  the  old  plaza  were  now  well  fortified. 

"  What  will  we  do  ? "  cried  Morton,  his  own  safety  now 
at  stake. 

"  We  will  travel  on  easily,  leave  the  road,  and  join  the 
Government  army.  It  is  our  only  safety,"  said  Don  Fer 
nando,  terrified  into  some  activity.  "  I  know  every  inch 
of  the  ground."  Away  they  hastened. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  243 

The  next  night,  Morton  and  the  youth  rode  within  the 
lines  of  Don  Luis  Bogran's  desperate  forces.  Short  time 
was  there  for  ceremony.  Don  Fernando  was  conducted 
to  his  uncle,  who  was  in  the  anxious  circle  around  the 
President-General.  For  the  straggling  deserters  and 
refugees  announced  an  attack  in  force  by  the  revolution 
ists  on  the  next  day.  A  few  words  were  wasted  by  the 
official  on  Morton,  who  found  thirty  or  forty  scattered 
American  miners  among  the  fifteen  hundred  men  at  bay 
on  the  pine-clad  hill-sides.  Miners,  refugees,  one  or  two 
well-known  embezzlers,  with  a  few  straggling  sailors;  the 
Americans  in  the  camp  were  under  the  guidance  of  two 
or  three  veterans  of  the  Civil  War,  mostly  ex-Confeder 
ates.  Henry  Morton  was  welcomed  and  made  a  brief 
acquaintance,  for  the  whole  camp  was  felling  timber 
abattis,  building  stone  barricades,  digging  rifle-pits,  and 
waiting  for  the  battle  morn  to  plant  the  Catlings. 

In  three  hours  Henry  Morton  was  one  of  the  guiding 
spirits  of  the  American  contingent.  His  splendid  outfit 
of  arms,  his  five  hundred  rounds  of  Winchester  car 
tridges,  and  his  awakened  spirit  made  him  welcome. 
For  in  his  heart  burned  the  presentiment  that  his  own 
foe  was  among  the  desperate  liberated  prisoners.  An  old 
frontiersman,  a  desperate  adventurer,  Overtoil  would  fight 
like  a  devil  for  freedom. 

An  impromptu  mass-meeting  around  the  watch-fire 
resulted  in  all  the  Americans  being  told  off  in  four 
squads,  one  each  for  the  right,  centre,  and  left,  and  one 
as  sharpshooters  to  protect  or  hold  the  precious  Catling 
guns. 

The  discordant  howls  of  tigers  and  other  prowling, 
hungry  beasts  sounded  all  night  in  the  forest.  The  calls 
of  distant  sentinels  resounded,  while  the  moon  lit  up  the 
rolling  mountain-spurs  with  floods  of  silver.  Around  the 
fires,  for  the  morning  air  was  chill,  knots  of  desperate 
Olancheros,  cut-throats  from  Yoro,  and  even  wild  Indians 


244  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

of  the  half-tamed  tribes,  gathered,  smoking,  and  drink 
ing  the  maddening  ruin  of  the  land.  They  were  omi 
nously  sharpening  their  machetes.  Morton's  Indians 
clung  around  him — the  animals  and  stores  in  shelter — 
while  Don  Fernando,  returning  from  the  main  councils, 
announced  the  onward  march  of  the  triumphant  revolu 
tionists.  Bogran,  attacked  when  half-ready,  had  been 
easily  driven  from  his  capital.  Declining  battle  for  a 
few  days  he  was  now  strengthening,  while  the  victors 
were  daily  disorganized  by  easy-won  victory.  Long 
before  the  battle-day,  several  strong  bodies  joined  the 
camp,  and  swift  runners  brought  news  of  the  secret  arri 
val  of  Guatemalan  help.  The  sandalled  Indian  can  race 
fifty  miles  a  day  over  the  declivities  of  trackless  Hondu 
ras  almost  as  the  crow  flies,  gliding  snake-like  around 
cliff  and  precipice.  It  was  these  returning  emissaries 
who  announced  the  near  help  of  Bogran's  allies.  Shouts 
and  viva s  spread  this  good  news. 

Harry  Morton,  stretched  on  his  blankets,  was  too  ex 
cited  to  sleep.  He  was  in  this  circle  of  fifty  or  more 
cut-off  Americans,  who  had  decided  to  act  together  for 
life  and  liberty.  Numbers  of  these,  accustomed  to  fron 
tier  or  other  warfare,  lay  resting  in  a  soldier's  careless 
slumber.  Of  their  number,  five  patrolled  their  own  lines 
hour  by  hour.  In  turn,  rifle  in  hand,  Morton  peered 
down  the  glens.  Far  in  the  east  a  glimmer  of  dawn 
appeared,  when  dropping  shots  down  in  the  ravines  told 
of  the  approach  of  the  enemy's  vanguard.  The  bugles 
quickly  roused  the  camp.  Coffee  simmered  on  a  hun 
dred  fires  ;  jerked  beef,  cassava  bread,  plantains,  and 
rum  enlivened  the  swarthy,  half-dressed  natives. 

Morton  divided  his  now  scanty  stores  with  his  fellow- 
adventurers,  filled  his  flask  and  canteen,  and,  with  a 
double  belt  of  cartridges,  his  revolver  belted  on  and  his 
shooting-coat  pockets  filled  with  precious  Winchester 
ammunition,  prepared  for  action,  keeping  the  best  of  his 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  245 

Indians  near  him,  with  all  his  reserve  supplies.  Don 
Fernando  was  away  with  the  headquarters.  His  surest 
safety  was  there.  In  an  hour,  by  the  growing  daylight, 
hundreds  of  dark  forms  were  seen  flitting  through  the 
forest  below.  Coming  nearer,  the  linen  coats  of  the  con 
fident  invaders  made  a  conspicuous  mark.  The  troops 
were  now  on  their  lines,  and  the  four  little  squads  of 
Americans  filed  off  silently  to  their  posts.  They  were 
the  advanced  riflemen  of  the  army. 

Firing  now  ran  briskly  along  a  mile  or  more  of  the 
hills  and  gullies,  in  snapping,  irregular  bursts.  The 
officers  of  the  camp  held  back  their  machete  men,  half- 
crazed  with  rum,  and  too  eager  to  run  in  and  close  with 
their  exhausted  enemies,  who  had  climbed  the  long  ridge. 
Lying  behind  the  piled  stones  and  log  shelters,  the  fifteen 
Americans  around  the  silent  Catlings  picked  off  man 
after  man,  with  their  superior  long-range  rifles. 

In  half  an  hour,  Morton,  now  cool  and  collected,  heard 
the  scream  of  a  shell  for  the  first  time,  as  the  only  light 
artillery  battery  of  the  enemy  opened  on  the  shelter  of 
the  Gatlings,  held  in  reserve  for  short-range  work. 

"  Treachery  !  "  Morton  cried  to  his  neighbor,  as  a 
storm  of  rifle  balls  swept  them  from  the  flank.  It  was 
indeed  so.  Some  timorous  deserter  had  unfolded  the 
hidden  position  of  the  machine-guns.  Quickly  run  back 
over  the  ridge,  they  were  soon  safe.  The  Gatlings  were 
held  for  the  wild  rush  of  the  onset. 

Louder  rang  the  rattling  fire  along  the  lines.  The 
officers  passed  down  Bogran's  positions,  cheering  the  men. 
Not  an  inch  had  been  gained  by  the  enemy.  The  foe  in 
numbers  began  finally  to  envelope  Bogran's  troops,  and 
the  flanks  were  drawn  back,  fighting  in  a  semicircle. 

In  another  hour,  the  cool  deadly  marksmanship  of  the 
American  contingent  began  to  tell.  A  body  of  yell 
ing  men  gathered  on  the  opposite  knoll,  four  hundred 
yards  away:  and  dashed  around  as  the  American  riflemen 


246  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

streamed  back  behind  the  ridge.  "  Hurry  up  the  Gat- 
lings  !  "  was  the  cry.  In  three  minutes,  the  fearful  rattle 
of  the  deadly  machine-guns  woke  the  forest  echoes  ;  for, 
pouring  back,  leaving  a  trail  of  dead  and  dying,  the 
revolutionists  broke  under  the  terrific  fire.  The  Catlings 
must  be  disabled,  to  save  the  revolutionists. 

So,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  on  a  bald  knoll,  the  three 
rifled  guns  of  the  foe  rang  out  their  bellowing  voices. 
The  bursting  shells  threw  the  loose  hill-side  rocks  high 
in  air. 

A  general  yell  for  "  Los  Americanos  y  sus  rifles!" 
resounded.  Stealing  out,  behind  trees,  the  American 
sharpshooters  poured  in  a  hot,  withering  fire  from  their 
Winchesters,  Sharps,  old  Springfields,  and  Hotchkiss 
guns  on  the  enemies'  gunners.  Firing  by  squads  of  five, 
under  signal,  the  rifled  guns  were  soon  silenced.  Their 
gun  detachments  were  lying  prone  around  them.  With 
defiant  cheers,  the  head  of  a  column  poured  over  the  ridge 
once  more.  Desperate  officers  at  their  head,  led  them  on 
with  mad  bravery.  With  a  jump  the  Catlings  crowned  the 
knoll  once  more,  opened,  and  the  column  broke.  When 
within  a  hundred  yards,  Morton,  behind  a  huge  pine-tree 
on  the  flank  of  the  Catlings,  saw  the  fugitives  scatter  to 
the  rear,  yet  not  before  he  recognized  dare-devil  Tom 
Overton.  He  was  brandishing  a  rifle,  and  urging  on  the 
dark-faced  demons. 

Even  in  the  excitement  of  the  fight,  Morton  laughed  a 
cold  devil's  laugh.  Here  was  his  own  enemy  at  last.  It 
was  no  longer  Bogran's  quarrel.  It  was  not  his  own  life. 
It  was  vengeance,  and  Marie  Ashton,  he  fought  for. 
For  Overton,  behind  a  tree,  was  sending  shot  after  shot 
coolly  into  the  ranks  of  the  defenders  of  the  Catlings. 
Had  he  recognized  him  ?  No. 

"  Look  here,  Roberts,"  Morton  cried  to  his  nearest 
skirmish  neighbor.  "  See  that  big  fellow  behind  the 
tree  ? " 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  247 

"  Yes,"  Roberts — the  chance  acquaintance  of  a  day 
— called  out. 

"  You  take  the  left  of  the  tree— I  take  the  right. 
Now  call  off  one,  two .-  you're  one,  I'm  two.  Shoot  when 
you  see  him  on  your  side.  We  must  get  him.  He  led 
that  charge.  If  he  leaves  the  tree,  pump  away  at  him. 
He's  an  officer." 

The  unequal  duel  continued  for  five  minutes.  Splin 
ters  flew  from  the  pine's  bark.  Overton's  hat  appeared 
to  right  and  left.  After  several  shots,  he  seemed  to 
understand  the  game.  His  tree  was  silent. 

"  I  guess  he's  done  for,"  cried  Roberts.  "  You  are 
good  for  him  now  !  "  And  he  picked  out  fleeing  strag 
glers  along  the  breaking  line. 

It  was  now  shot  and  shot.  Morton  and  Overton,  face 
to  face  at  last ! 

Morton  was  as  cool  as  in  the  gallery,  and  his  blood  still 
boiled  for  vengeance.  The  ring  of  snapping  shots  was 
interrupted  as  Bogran's  left  wing,  advancing,  swept  down 
the  hill,  with  wild  yells,  on  the  foe.  The  Olancheros, 
machete  in  hand,  closed  in  like  leaping  panthers,  covered 
by  the  heavy  rifle-fire.  They  were  at  close  quarters 
now,  slashing  the  wounded  as  they  passed.  Morton's 
eye  was  glued  on  the  tree.  He  had  a  bead  drawn  on 
its  centre.  As  the  rancheros  streamed  over  the  hollow, 
Morton  saw  a  head  and  shoulder.  He  pressed  the 
trigger  gently,  and  the  dark  form,  throwing  up  its 
hands,  pitched  forward  on  its  face.  As  the  whole  line 
of  Bogran's  troops  drove  along  in  triumph,  with  mad 
yells,  Harry  Morton  marched  straight  on  the  tree,  his 
rifle  at  the  ready — for  the  screams  and  howls  down  the 
slopes  told  that  the  machete  was  effectively  doing  its 
fearful  work. 

With  beating  heart,  Morton  approached  the  tree.  The 
Americans  did  not  join  in  the  massacre  after  the  rout. 
Roberts  called  out,  springing  to  the  front  to  see  the  last 


248  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

of  the  retreat  :  "  There's  your  man.  You  got  him  at 
last." 

It  was,  indeed,  Tom.  Precisely  in  the  centre  of  his 
forehead,  the  heavy  Winchester  express  ball  had  en 
tered.  It  was  Thomas  Overton — swarthy,  worn,  bearded, 
and  stone  dead. 

"  By  God  !  this  man's  an  American,"  Roberts  cried, 
returning,  for  the  rally  was  sounding,  and  the  wild  ranche- 
ros,  with  the  mounted  men,  were  finishing  the  butchery 
of  the  fleeing  enemy.  Aides  dashed  around,  driving  the 
lean-armed  swordsmen  to  the  front. 

"  Vamos  por  el  capital  !  "  was  the  watchword. 

Bogran  mustered  his  solid  troops,  and  was  pushing 
at  once  on  the  capital.  Leaving  a  rear-guard  to  bring 
on  the  heavy  goods,  bury  the  dead,  and  glean  the  field, 
the  main  body  pressed  on  to  secure  the  city  at  once. 
Half  of  the  Americans  remained.  Fatigued  with  his 
terrible  journey,  and  worn  out  with  excitement,  Mor 
ton  decided  to  rest,  Calling  his  Indian  servants,  who 
clung  to  him,  through  fear,  Morton  brought  Overton 's 
body  into  camp,  with  the  still  heated  rifle  he  had 
handled. 

"I  must  search  his  body  for  any  papers,"  the  banker 
reflected.  "  He  has  paid  off  my  score,  but  I  have  a  right 
to  know  the  truth."  . 

No  one  objected  to  his  proposed  burial  of  the  Amer 
ican  guerilla.  From  his  own  luggage  Morton  extracted 
clean  garments,  and  by  the  Indian  servants,  Tom  Overton, 
the  sport  of  adverse  fortune,  was  buried  in  a  grave — 
hollowed  by  the  all-useful  machete — on  the  red  hill-side 
of  Honduras. 

Morton  shuddered  after  this  ordeal.  Dead,  and  by  his 
avenging  hand  !  He  sat  under  the  swaying  pines,  and 
dreamed  it  was  a  mere  vision  of  the  night.  In  a  little 
heap,  all  of  Overton's  belongings  lay  before  him. 

"  He  would  naturally  secrete   his   papers  in  prison." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  249 

In  half  an  hour,  the  amateur  soldier  possessed  every 
trifle  of  the  dead  man.  There  was  nothing  save  a  few 
pocket  articles. 

"  He  must  have  had  something  else,"  Morton  reasoned. 
A  flash  of  memory  recalled  old-time  stories.  Carefully 
examining  the  dead  man's  clothing  and  shoes,  he  found 
nothing.  When  he  handled  the  coat,  Morton  smiled  as 
he  noted  its  bulk.  Severing  the  seams  of  the  lining 
with  his  knife,  he  laid  bare  the  concealed  treasure — bill 
after  bill,  till  the  last  was  secured.  Sewed  inside  one 
pocket  lining  was  a  small  memorandum  book  ;  in  the 
other,  two  old  letters. 

There  was  but  little  time.  Stripping  the  whole  cloth 
ing  with  his  knife,  he  burned  it  all.  The  rear-guard  was 
now  ready  to  march  toward  the  capital,  where  fiesta  and 
rejoicing  awaited  them.  His  nimble  Indians  packed  the 
animals. 

"  Overtoil  must  have  left  the  great  bulk  of  the  treas 
ure  with  the  woman,"  Morton  said,  as  he  mounted 
and  joined  the  Americans  filing  down  the  blood-stained 
slopes.  He  cast  a  last  look  at  the  red  mound,  with  its 
two  stakes  at  head  and  foot.  "  Paid  in  full  !  It  was  in 
fair  fight  and  an  even  duel." 

A  cold  chill  fell  over  Harry  Morton's  heart.  "  I  have 
no  object  in  life  now.  It's  all  a  fraud,  a  snare,  a  lie.  Over 
toil  was  only  a  fearless  thief.  Marie  Ashton  is  a  lying 
adventuress,  and  I  am — I  am — a  shallow  fool  !  " 

He  cared  not  now  for  the  score  of  thousand  dollars  he 
had  rescued.  The  book  and  letters  he  had  not  yet  exam 
ined.  Five  hours'  swift  riding,  over  fairly  practicable 
roads,  brought  him  to  the  white-walled  town  of  Teguci 
galpa.  Behind  on  the  battle-field,  the  wandering  starv 
ing  camp-followers  were  gleaning  the  field,  and  the 
mountain  vultures  perched  patiently,  awaiting  another 
dawn.  Along  the  road,  the  dead  and  wounded  told  of 
the  fearful  work  of  the  razor-bladed  native  sword. 


250  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Halted  at  the  outposts,  the  Americanos — las  bravos — 
were  passed  in  triumph.  Bogran  was  already  beleaguer 
ing  the  town. 

The  town,  still  held  by  the  desperate  rebels  as  a  last 
stand,  lay  now  before  them.  To  the  north,  old  Leona,  a 
dangerous  volcano,  towered  over  the  city,  around  whose 
stone  walls  dropping  shots,  wild  yells,  and  lurid  dancing 
lights  told  of  the  leaguer.  The  frightened  scattered 
Americans  and  scientific  laborers  of  the  mines  were  flock 
ing  in,  and  seeking  safety  in  joining  Bogran's  forces. 
Penned  up  like  rats,  within  a  wall  of  fire,  the  desperate 
revolutionists  died  with  the  aimless  sang-froid  of  the 
Latin  races.  Temper,  not  temperament,  rules  these 
mercurial  men. 

President  Bogran,  with  his  gold-lace  bedizened  staff, 
wildly  urged  the  avengers  on.  The  silent  machete  was 
at  work.  Pistol  and  rifle  rang  out,  as  the  human  debris 
of  the  unsuccessful  revolution  were  coldly  assassinated 
in  the  suburbs.  The  captured  cannon  of  the  defeated 
pronunciados  were  playing  on  the  long,  low  adobe  houses, 
whose  dazzling  white  walls  were  a  shining  mark.  Sortie 
after  sortie  was  met  by  the  concentrated  fire  of  Bogran's 
victorious  battalions.  The  Americans  now  stood  coldly 
aloof.  Their  day  of  butchery  was  over.  In  the  narrow 
cobble-stoned  streets  of  the  mountain  capital,  only  wide 
enough  for  the  two-wheeled  carts,  the  flying,  panic- 
stricken  revolutionists  were  brutally  massacred.  Before 
the  cross  of  God — lifted  high  over  the  old  Spanish 
cathedral — yelling  fugitives  were  dragged  out  and  fusil 
laded  at  the  nod  of  a  mere  corporal.  Heavy  window 
shutters,  iron-barred,  kept  the  shrinking  fifteen  thou 
sand  citizens  safe  in  their  homes,  while  from  every 
hole  and  corner  the  more  ambitious  malcontents  were 
dragged,  wounded  and  bleeding,  to  the  inevitable  death 
awaiting  them  on  the  Plaza  de  las  Armas.  For  Bogran, 
coward  in  fight,  was  as  merciless  in  victory  as  a  Scylla — 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  251 

and  Morton  had  to  see  this  human  holocaust  go  on  with 
out  a  word  in  protest. 

Bogran  shot  his  rivals  on  the  ground  he  may  some 
day  die  on  later. 

Before  three  days,  President-General  Bogran  triumph 
antly  reoccupied  the  Executive  Palace,  and  Morton, 
with  a  horrid  fascination  he  could  not  resist,  saw  six 
of  the  would-be  Napoleons  shot  to  death,  amid  the  exe 
cration  of  the  mob.  He  had  as  yet  disguised  his  own 
identity.  No  man  knew  of  his  private  vengeance.  Only 
waiting  till  the  last  malefactors  were  dragged  from  their 
lair,  till  the  telegraph  was  available,  Harry  Morton  tele 
graphed  Seth  Wise,  via  Truxillo  : 

Thomas  Overtoil,  alias  Robert  Randall,  killed  in  battle  near  cap 
ital.  Small  sum  recovered.  Woman  and  funds  probably  in  Europe. 
Leave  to-morrow  for  Pacific  Coast.  Home  via  San  Francisco. 

Before  the  next  night,  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence,  at  the 
American  Exchange,  Paris,  received  the  news  of  Over- 
ton's  death  from  the  Truxillo  agent  of  Jose  Oliviera ; 
and  Don  Jose,  with  the  cheerful  Riley,  breathed  freer  in 
the  same  knowledge.  Overton's  "  fitful  fever  "  was  over. 
It  was  safety  for  the  two  rascals  ! 

Several  Americans  wished  to  quit  at  once  this  land  of 
blood  and  yellow  fever.  Morton,  after  waiting  a  day  or 
so,  to  see  the  roads  safe,  indited  full  letters  to  Wise,  and 
despatched  them  to  the  Atlantic  coast  by  the  first  Govern 
ment  escort.  Carefully  copying  the  entries  in  the  mem 
orandum  book,  he  sent  on  the  original,  under  seal,  and 
guarded  the  two  letters.  For  the  truth  was  clear  to  him 
at  last.  He  only  lived  now  to  chase  across  the  Old  World 
the  fair,  deceitful  devil  who  had  lured  him  on  to  ruin. 
The  book  had  but  few  entries.  The  first  was  a  complete 
copy  of  the  bank  combination  ;  the  second  was  a  series 
of  figures,  as  follows  : 


252  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Bonds. 

5)250,000 
50,000 

50,000  O.  100,000  O. 

50,000  C. 
50,000  R. 

Currency, 

5)140,000 
28,000 

28,000  O.  56,000  O. 

28,000  C. 
28,000  R. 


C.  50,000  bonds..  28,000  curr.;  £  each  of  j  •>£'££  ^  \ 

The  next  was  as  follows  : 

Left         116,500  bonds  with  M.  A. 


64, 500 
Less     18,000 


46,500  curr.,  M.  A. 

Loose  money  in  baggage. 

"  This  is  clearly  the  division  of  the  plunder  with  his 
fellow-thieves.  Seth  Wise  must  trace  them  down  and 
find  them."  As  for  the  two  letters,  they  were  burned 
into  his  brain. 

One  was  dated  six  years  before  it  trembled  in  the  hand 
of  the  love-sick  wanderer.  It  told  of  a  woman's  shame — 
of  an  abandoned  home — of  all  that  makes  life  a  hell  to  the 
burdened  conscience.  It  was  filled  with  the  reproaches 
of  a  wanton  and  the  quavering  pleading  of  a  dupe. 
Harry  Morton's  bosom  heaved  in  agony  as  he  knew,  at 
last,  he  had  been  the  plaything  of  an  incarnate  devil  and 
had  lavished  his  perverted  love  on  a  human  hyena. 

For  the  second  letter,  written  in  the  same  hand — while 
he  wandered  in  a  fools'  paradise — was  a  merry,  rallying 
description  of  his  own  volunteer  confessions,  a  statement 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  253 

of  his  daily  actions,  and  a  report  of  the  sly  manoeuvres 
which  had  dragged  him  down.  "  The  poor  fool  has  no 
idea,  yet,  of  any  scheme.  He  believes  in  me  implicitly. 
He  does  not  even  suspect  you."  Both  were  signed 
"  Kate."  Such  was  his  darling's  description  of  her 
banker-lover.  His  bosom  heaved  in  fury. 

"Curse  her!  "  cried  Morton,  as  he  sprang  on  his  fresh 
horse  ;  for  two  days  would  bring  him  to  the  blue  Pacific. 
"  I'll  comb  the  earth  till  I  find  her  and  face  her  with 
these  damning  proofs.  As  for  the  stolen  money,  she 
shall  yield  it  up.  1  have  been  a  dupe  and  fool." 

He  shivered  in  impotent  rage  as  he  thought  of  his 
royal  volunteer  gift  to  her.  Twenty  thousand  dollars  ! 

Out  from  old  Tegucigalpa,  with  its  bowers  and 
fountains,  its  great  plaza,  its  old  quadrangles  of  quaint 
buildings — on  past  the  crumbling  churches,  the  jails  now 
crowded  with  starving  delinquents,  having  said  a  hasty 
adieu  to  his  motley  companions  of  the  chance  battle, 
Harry  Morton  sped  away,  well  mounted  on  a  good  horse. 
He  must  be  away  to  Europe,  to  find  Marie  Ashton,  he 
thought  as  he  \vent  on,  clattering  down  a  good  road  to 
the  blue  seas  of  the  West. 

His  heart  and  soul  were  fixed  on  one  thing — to  return, 
to  throw  himself  at  his  wife's  feet  and  tell  the  true  tale 
of  his  folly.  He  vowed  to  exculpate  Ralph  Burnham 
from  his  quarrels,  and  to  place  in  the  hands  of  clear- 
eyed  old  Seth  Wise  the  means  of  tracing  and  recovering 
the  lost  fortune  of  Claire.  He  longed  to  begin  and  live 
his  life  over,  as  a  man.  The  scales  had  dropped  from  his 
eyes,  and  he  knew  at  last  the  hideous  folly  of  his  ways. 
Far  away  from  the  blood-stained  streets  of  the  mountain 
capital  their  nimble  steeds  bore  the  returning  travellers, 
sweeping  down  the  slopes  of  the  hundred  miles  to  the 
Pacific. 

When  Morton  drew  his  rein  before  the  little  hotel  in 
Amapala,  he  staggered  as  he  dismounted.  His  faithful 


254  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Indians  unpacked  the  luggage.  With  trembling  hand  he 
paid  them,  and  dismissed  them,  with  unwonted  largesse, 
and  presents  for  Don  Fernando,  whose  florid  adieu  still 
lingered  with  him.  Don  Fernando  was  conspicuous  at 
the  executions  of  the  malcontents,  calmly  smoking  his 
cigarette.  Three  hours  afterward,  Robinson,  a  fellow 
traveller,  joyously  burst  into  Morton's  room  to  announce 
the  arrival  of  the  San  Francisco  steamer  next  day.  Mor 
ton  was  lying,  fully  dressed,  on  his  bed,  his  face  flushed, 
his  breathing  labored.  The  household  was  summoned. 
The  old  Spanish  doctor  gravely  gazed  at  him,  and  re 
marked,  "  Estd  muy  enfermo" 

When  the  gravity  of  his  sickness  was  announced,  Rob 
inson  cried,  "  What  is  it  ?" 

With  bated  breath,  the  aged  physician  remarked,  "  El 
vomito" 

It  was,  indeed,  yellow  fever  in  its  deadliest  form. 
With  strangers  around  his  bedside,  his  glazed  eyes 
feebly  strained  to  catch  a  familiar  face,  Henry  Morton 
calmly  laid  down  the  burden  of  a  stormy  life.  Without 
a  word  he  passed  out  upon  the  dark  sea  of  Death,  and 
his  grave  was  made  in  the  little  Campo  Santo  by  the 
green-clad  shores  of  the  island-dotted  bay. 

The  American  Consul  seized  the  occasion  to  write  an 
eloquent  despatch  to  the  Department  of  State,  and  took 
official  possession  of  his  funds  and  papers.  A  telegram 
to  Seth  Wise  followed  an  examination  of  his  note-book. 

While  one  saddened  woman  knelt  in  sorrow  in  her 
lonely  New  York  home,  Marie  Ashton  in  Paris  gazed 
cheerfully  into  her  fire. 

The  American  Consul  in  Truxillo,  forwarding  the 
despatch  to  New  York,  imparted  the  sinister  news  of 
Morton's  death  to  the  Commandante  and  to  Oliviera's 
agent. 

"  Another  American  gone  !  They  cannot  resist  our 
climate,"  exclaimed  the  three  cronies. 


DEI.TLAH    OF    HART, EM.  255 

All  need  of  silence  being  now  removed,  the  Consul, 
to  whom  Morton  had  imparted  his  mission  and  identity, 
revealed  all. 

Oliviera's  agent  laughed  to  himself,  as  he  telegraphed 
to  Paris  and  to  New  York  the  news  of  Morton's  taking 
off. 

<l  A  very  good  thing  for  us ! "  joyously  exclaimed 
Oliviera  and  Riley.  u  This  fellow  could  have  made 
trouble.  Now,  we  are  safe  at  last — thanks  to  the 
climate." 

"  I  can  now  defy  any  fate,"  cried  Marie  Ashton,  as  the 
cable  message  fluttered  down  to  her  feet  in  her  Parisian 
rooms.  Stretching  in  comfort  on  her  chaise-longue,  she 
caught  the  reflection  of  her  blooming  charms  in  the 
glass.  "  I  am  young,  rich,  independent,  and  I  am  no 
longer  in  fear  of  poor  Tom's  desperate  rashness,  or  crazy 
Morton  tracking  me  down.  But  I  must  get  away  from 
Paris.  I'll  go  away  to  the  East.  I'll  try  the  Mediter 
ranean.  I'll  see  Egypt,  for  I  might  be  recognized  even 
here.  People  from  Denver — old  friends  from  the  South 
— some  one,  would  see  me.  There  will  be  a  scurry  over 
these  things.  But  I  have  the  wealth,  the  power — I  have 
a  new  name,"  Eleanor  Laurence  lightly  laughed,  as  she 
thought  of  her  passport  registry,  "  and  it  would  take  one 
from  the  dead  to  break  my  lines  now." 

Merciless,  heartless,  loveless,  and  drinking  the  wine 
of  life  to  the  dregs,  Eleanor  Laurence  was  in  the  rosy 
dreams  of  wealth  and  success — Marie  Ashton  was  no 
more.  And  yet  a  finger  from  the  dead  world  was  pointed 
at  her,  as  she  dreamed  of  her  luxurious  trip  through  the 
sparkling  island-dotted  waters  of  the  old  Roman  world. 


256  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HAGGERTY  SEES  A  LOVELY  VISION.  MAXWELL'S  COLORADO 
JOURNEY.  IN  CAIRO.  JOHN  MARTIN'S  BRIDE.  IN 
THE  BOIS.  "TWO  GENTLEMEN  FROM  NEW  YORK." 
AN  OLD  LOVE-STORY.  "  I  WANT  THOSE  BONDS." 

"  I  AM  getting  stiff  and  old,  my  young  friends,"  said 
Seth  Wise,  gazing  over  his  dinner  table  at  Burnham  and 
Maxwell. 

It  was  a  bleak  February  day,  and  the  fluttering  snow- 
flakes  whirled  down  on  the  avenue.  It  was  a  "firm 
dinner."  For  Walter  Maxwell  was  now  a  neophyte 
banker.  Seth,  in  deep  dejection,  found  his  time  occu 
pied  with  the  arrangement  of  poor  Harry  Morton's  estate, 
and  the  care  of  the  lonely  wailing  woman  whose  pale 
face  gleamed  like  marble  from  the  sombre  weeds  of  a 
widow. 

Claire  Morton  was  sullen  and  stunned.  The  whole  sad 
history  seemed  like  a  horrid  dream.  Doctor  Atkinson, 
gravely  gleaning  his  professional  fields,  remarked  to  the 
old  banker  :  "  You  must  cheer  her  up,  my  dear  sir  ;  she 
needs  daily  care.  She  must  be  taken  out  and  roused 
from  this  crushing  sorrow." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Seth  became  a  temporary  resi 
dent  of  Claire  Morton's  home,  and  Burnham  and  Max 
well  occupied  the  stately  mansion  of  the  old  capitalist. 
Both  of  them  were  busied  at  the  bank.  With  singular 
delicacy,  Burnham  avoided  his  widowed  cousin,  and, 
throwing  off  his  lethargy,  took  upon  himself  the  burden 
of  the  bank  business,  in  which  Walter  Maxwell  aided  the 
two  partners. 

The  last  sad  reminders  of  the  erring,  passionate  Harry 
Morton  were  his  manly  letters  from  Tegucigalpa  ;  the 
mysterious  pocket-book  of  the  dead  gambler,  with  its 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  257 

record  of  unpunished  robbery  ;  and  the  arrival  of  Henry 
Morton's  funds  and  effects. 

"  Maxwell,  I  feel  that  we  can  trace  down  the  gang  of  sly 
villains  by  finding  and  vigorously  pressing  that  blonde 
she-devil,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Now  that  we  have  the 
bank  affairs  moving  in  good  shape,  I  will  advise  Burnham 
as  manager  daily.  I  know  we  have  all  the  general  data 
we  can  get.  There  is  nothing  more  from  Overton  or 
poor  Harry  to  be  hoped,"  he  said  with  a  sigh.  "I  wish 
you  to  go  quietly  out  to  Denver  and  trace  back  this  man 
Overton's  career,  and  this  wandering  woman's  dark  his 
tory.  It  will  give  us  the  key-notes.  Your  experience  as 
an  '  interviewer  '  and  traveller  will  stand  you  in  good 
stead,"  the  old  man  said,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  pleas 
antry.  "  We  can  only  strike  these  people  here  through 
facts  gleaned  from  her.  We  have  as  yet  no  legal  evi 
dence  against  them,  but  she  is  the  key  to  the  whole 
situation.  Explore  this  double  history,  and  we  can  easily 
find  her  in  Europe.  Let  the  police  alone,  out  West,  but 
search  thoroughly  in  the  Bohemian  haunts  of  specula 
tion,  gaming,  and  sport,  in  Denver  and  Leadville." 

Four  days  afterward,  Walter  Maxwell  stepped  from 
the  train  at  Denver.  Knocking  around  the  world  had 
given  him  a  knack  at  an  easy-going  life.  He  was  a  good 
hand  at  billiards,  a  cheerful  story-teller,  also  a  fair  card- 
player.  His  personal  bonhomie  and  his  social  gifts  made 
him  welcome  in  the  free  and  easy  West.  Maxwell 
strolled  about  the  town  for  a  half-hour  before  he  decided 
on  his  resting-place.  With  the  freemasonry  of  his  jour 
nalistic  craft,  he  had  picked  up  already  on  the  train  a 
social  directory  of  the  lofty  mining  capital.  In  two 
hours,  he  was  installed  in  private  rooms,  over  Denver's 
most  seductive  drinking  saloon. 

Sport  and  miner,  overdressed  drummer  and  wander 
ing  adventurer — all  the  shady  side  of  town  life  which 
lounges  by  day,  and  dices,  games,  or  drinks,  at  night — 
17 


258  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

were  the  habitues  of  this  chief  haunt  of  the  man  about 
town. 

Lounging,  driving,  frequenting  the  music-halls  and 
smaller  places  of  amusement — the  ex-journalist  became 
soon  a  general  favorite.  His  money  was  freely  spent — 
an  open  sesame  in  Denver.  After  a  week,  he  gained  a 
seat  at  the  "  confidential  card  game  "  in  the  back  room — 
a  brevet  of  social  rank  ! 

The  emissary  of  Seth  Wise  had  only  so  far  progressed 
as  to  discover  that  Overton's  false  despatches  had  been 
handled  at  Denver  by  others.  This  was  confirmation, 
but  still  useless  as  a  help  to  future  action. 

Fearing  that  Tom  Overton  might  have  yet  friends  on 
the  watch,  Maxwell  refrained  from  mentioning  his  name. 

"  I  must  do  it,  though,"  he  resolved  finally.  "  It's  the 
only  way." 

As  the  diamond-bedizened  barkeeper  deposited  a  round 
of  inviting  drinks,  one  day,  at  the  card-table,  Maxwell 
carelessly  asked  :  "  Do  you  know  a  Denver  mining  man 
named  Tom  Overton  ?  " 

There  was  an  instant  response  from  the  three  players, 
as  well  as  the  modern  Ganymede. 

"  Tom  Overton — one  of  the  '  old  timers '  !  " 

"Overton's  a  first-rate,  rattling  good  fellow." 

"  Tom's  the  best  judge  of  a  horse  or  a  poker  hand  in 
the  West." 

"  He's  the  sharpest  operator  in  Colorado." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  Maxwell  calmly  queried. 

"  Oh,  he's  somewhere  East,  or  in  Europe,  handling 
some  big  properties.  He  has  a  finger  in  every  pie." 
They  knew  not  that  he  was  cold  in  death. 

He  had  played  his  last  card,  and  Death  had  won  the 
odd  trick  ! 

The  floodgates  once  loosened,  the  tide  of  comment  and 
reminiscence  rolled  along.  Maxwell  watched  his  glass 
and  the  cards,  while  blue  smoke-wreaths  floated  around 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  259 

the  players.  Overton's  early  exploits  on  the  Mississippi, 
his  adventures  on  the  plains,  his  prowess  in  duel  and 
mining  squabbles,  his  varied  fortunes  over  the  green 
cloth  or  in  the  Stock  Exchange — all  these  marvels  were 
lazily  recounted. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Colonel  Merriman,  a  heavy-browed 
idle  lawyer,  who  was  fonder  of  poker  than  of  Blackstone, 
"  I  wonder  what  Tom  ever  did  with  Walton's  wife.  She 
was  a  rare  beauty." 

"  Ah  !  Tom  was  a  ladies'  man  ?  "  Maxwell  questioned, 
giving  the  ball  of  conversation  a  toss. 

"  I  should  say  he  was,"  the  bibulous  advocate  proudly 
rejoined.  "  I  came  very  near  getting  shot  over  that 
same  blue-eyed  beauty." 

"  How  was  that  ? "  several  of  the  circle  questioned. 

"  Kate  Walton's  mother  was  of  a  very  good  family  in 
New  Orleans.  After  the  war,  she  had  to  take  boarders — 
the  broken  gentlewoman's  last  resource.  Tom  was  al 
ways  in  and  out  of  the  town.  When  the  girl  Kate  grew 
to  be  sixteen  or  seventeen,  she  was  just  a  picture.  The 
poor  child — from  sentiment — married  Walton,  a  good- 
looking  young  clerk.  After  a  year  or  two,  he  took  to 
drink  and  opium.  Overton  boarded  at  the  old  lady's 
house.  It's  the  same  old  story.  The  young  wife  was 
neglected,  and  she  was  fond  of  dress  and  show — the 
Devil's  bait  for  women.  One  day,  Overton  turned  up 
with  her  at  Leadville.  He  opened  a  '  quiet  game.'  She 
was  the  star  of  the  town.  He  taught  her  to  ride,  and 
dress,  and  show  herself  off.  The  whole  town  knew  her 
as  '  Colorado  Kate.'  Many's  the  man  who  fell  down 
before  her  bright  eyes — and  Overton  fleeced  them  well. 
One  day,  Walton — who  was,  by  the  way,  no  coward- 
turned  up  here,  with  a  big  six-shooter.  Overton  shot 
him  in  the  shoulder.  Walton  came  near  dying.  Tom 
put  him,  then,  in  a  private  hospital,  and  sent  the  woman 
East  for  a  year  or  two  to  polish  up." 


260  DELILAH  OF  HARLEM. 

"  He  must  have  adored  her,"  Maxwell  hazarded. 

"  So  he  did.  When  tie  got  into  big  operations,  she 
came  back  to  Denver,  under  the  name  of  Mrs.  Marie 
Ashton.  Overton  was  now  up  in  finance  and  a  very  im 
portant  man.  His  reputation  as  a  desperate  killing  man 
kept  people  very  careful.  She  gradually  went  in  pretty 
fair  society  for  a  mining  camp — you  all  know  !  "  The 
convives  smiled  and  slyly  winked. 

"Is  she  here  now?"  Maxwell  asked,  with  languid 
interest. 

"  No,  but  I  heard 'from  some  business  men  who  went 
East  that  she  is  living  '  very  swell '  in  New  York.  She 
was  the  Belle  of  Colorado." 

"  And  the  wounded  husband  ?  "  Maxwell  queried. 

"  After  he  recovered,  he  dropped  back  into  his  opium 
habit.  He  came  up  here  and  wanted  me  to  take  her 
away  from  Overton.  He  showed  me  the  marriage  cer 
tificate,  and  all.  I  ventured  to  go  and  see  Tom.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  visit."  The  counsellor  paused 
and  emptied  his  glass. 

"  He  wouldn't  give  her  up  ? "  Maxwell  said,  with  a 
show  of  interest. 

"  Tom  quietly  pointed  to  a  pair  of  six-shooters,  lying 
on  his  table,"  Merriman  continued.  "  I  took  the  hint  and 
left,  for  he  said  something  about  filling  any  man  full  of 
lead  who  disturbed  his  'domestic  arrangements.'  " 

The  gay  circle  laughed  merrily  at  the  nonplussed 
lawyer. 

"  Didn't  get  the  lady  back  ? "  they  roared. 

"  Not  much  !  If  Tom  comes  back  you  can  all  try  it," 
Merriman  retorted,  "  if  you  think  it  a  safe  deal." 

"  No,  thank  you  !  "  an  emphatic  chorus  answered. 

"  Where's  the  husband  now  ?  "  Maxwell  demanded. 
"  To  finish  your  strange  history,  we  should  know  his  fate." 

"Oh,  Walton's  down  in  Leadville,  in  the  county  clerk's 
office,  just  about  the  same.  He'll  never  give  her  a  di- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  261 

vorce,  for  he  don't  wish  Tom  to  marry  her.  Poor  fool  ! 
he  thinks  she'll  come  back  to  him  yet.  She's  not  twenty- 
four  now,  and  the  men  who  saw  her  say  she's  lovelier  than 
a  dream." 

Two  days  later,  Walter  Maxwell  left  Leadville  for 
New  York,  with  a  certified  copy  of  Kate  Walton's  mar 
riage  certificate,  and  a  complete  family  history.  Walton 
himself  was  easily  beguiled  with  a  story  of  some  prospec 
tive  landed  inheritance  in  Louisiana.  Maxwell  found 
him  easily,  yet  guarded  her  secrets. 

"The  coast  is  clear,"  Walter  mused,  "for  the  mother 
is  now  dead.  We  can  frighten  her  with  these  papers." 

Arriving  in  New  York,  Maxwell  had  formulated  his 
whole  plan  on  the  way.  His  jolly  friends  in  Denver 
looked  eagerly  for  his  return.  He  promised  Walton  to 
communicate  through  Colonel  Merriman,  should  that 
worthy  long  survive  the  effects  of  copious  whiskey  at  a 
high  altitude. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Seth  Wise,  as  the  three  friends  sat  in 
conclave.  "Now,  Walter,  read  these."  The  old  man 
handed  over  a  telegram  and  letter.  "  These  are  from 
Haggerty." 

It  was  so.  The  wandering  reporter  and  his  sharp- 
eyed  bride  were  wide  awake  in  France.  The  cablegram 
read  : 

Saw  the  woman  alone  here  at  the  American  Exchange.  Followed 
her.  Registered  as  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence.  Left  Grand  Hotel  last 
night  by  Marseilles  train.  Cable  your  orders.  Letters  by  to-mor 
row's  steamer.  HAGGERTY. 

"  Here's  my  answer,"  Wise  remarked,  as  he  handed 
over  the  copy.  It  read  : 

Wait  in  Paris  for  further  instructions  by  letter. — WISE. 

"  Now,  Maxwell,  this  letter  arrived  yesterday.  We 
both  waited  for  you,"  Wise  quietly  said.  "  I  cabled  the 


262  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

United  States  Consul  at  Marseilles,  and  here's  his  offi 
cial  answer  : 

"  Mrs.  Eleanor  Laurence  sailed  for  Alexandria,  Egypt,  three  days 
ago.  "  VERNON,  Consul." 

"  Ah  !  my  lady  is  afraid  to  trust  Paris  after  seeing 
Haggerty.  Now,  I  would  write  confidentially  to  some 
good  bank  in  Cairo  or  Alexandria.  You  have  corre 
spondents  there.  She  probably  will  pass  the  rest  of  the 
winter  there.  Have  them  use  the  cable.  Then  we  can 
send  some  one  on  to  watch  or  frighten  her."  Maxwell 
thus  laid  down  his  views. 

"  It's  a  very  good  scheme,"  cried  Seth.  "  She  will  be  on 
the  look-out  for  Haggerty  and  wife.  She  is  now  aroused 
and  watchful.  We  can't  get  her  back,  but  we  must 
corner  her." 

"  If  she  will  stray  back  to  the  Continent,  I  think  we 
can  get  her  in  a  trap,"  Maxwell  replied.  "I  have  a 
scheme,  but  she  must  first  get  into  good  society.  That 
is  her  aim  now." 

"  Burnham,"  said  Seth,  "  it  will  take  a  month  to  get 
this  answer  from  Cairo.  We  have  old  relations  with  our 
correspondent  there  on  account  of  our  winter  tourists. 
I'll  write  in  full  to-night.  Now,  I'll  take  a  run  of  three 
or  four  weeks  down  to  Florida,  and  take  Claire  Morton 
where  she  won't  be  reminded  every  day  of  this  trouble. 
You  can  wire  me  when  the  answer  comes.  I  will  come 
back,  and  we  will  send  some  one  over.  Our  bird  is  shy 
and  must  not  be  frightened.  Now,  study  that  letter  of 
Haggerty's,  and  tell  me  what  to  write  him." 

Burnham  and  Maxwell  dissected  the  scribe's  epistle. 

Marie  Ashton  had  recognized  both  of  them.  She 
evidently  knew  the  late  Miss  Viola  Pomeroy  as  the  deft 
spy  of  Harlem.  Blooming  in  beauty,  exquisitely  dressed, 
with  her  colored  maid  in  the  carriage,  the  witch  meas- 
uredly  retired  to  her  hotel.  Ed.  Haggerty,  strolling  into 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  263 

the  Grand  Hotel  court  that  evening,  saw  a  liberal  hillock 
of  her  baggage  departing  for  the  night  train.  Studying 
the  register,  and  an  inquiry,  proved  that  "  Mrs.  Eleanor 
Laurence  and  maid  "  had  left  for  Marseilles,  ordering 
her  letters  :  "  Poste  Restante,  Cairo,  Egypt." 

While  Uncle  Seth  wrote  to  Cairo,  Burnham  advised 
Haggerty  to  follow  any  further  clews,  using  the  necessary 
time  and  means,  and  to  await  the  arrival  of  some  confi 
dential  agent.  For  the  astute  Haggerty  sent  in  the 
prospectus  of  a  new  "  Literary  and  Commercial  Amer 
ican  Agency,"  he  having  found  some  bright-witted  ad 
venturer  from  Columbia's  shores  to  join  him.  "  I  intend 
to  remain  here,"  he  proudly  announced. 

While  drifting  snows  buried  New  York  City,  and  bleak 
March  winds  howled  along  the  frozen  streets,  Eleanor 
Laurence,  in  far  Cairo,  sat  upon  the  upper  porticos  of  the 
Grand  Esbekieh  Hotel,  in  all  the  mild  glow  of  a  Cairene 
sun.  Far  away  up  the  blue  Nile  the  sandy  shores  were 
dotted  with  brick  pyramids.  The  great  band  of  tender 
green  verdure  stretched  like  a  gigantic  ribbon  below  her. 
As  the  breeze  fanned  her  lovely  brow,  the  wandering 
Witch  listened  to  the  shouts  of  the  motley  throng  below. 
Beside  the  palatial  hostelry  the  orange-laden  trees  of  a 
pacha's  garden  hung  over  the  walls.  The  perfumed 
breeze  at  night,  sweeping  into  her  open  casement,  echoed 
with  the  passionate  plaint  of  the  nightingale.  The 
beautiful  American  wayfarer  was  at  her  ease.  Safe 
now  from  all  prying  eyes,  in  this  dreamy  lotos-land,  her 
Southern  nature  took  on  again  the  easy  nonchalance  of 
the  land  of  her  girlhood.  Cairo  charmed  her,  with  its 
ebb  and  flow  of  the  social  world-girdlers  :  its  quaint 
narrow  streets— its  mysterious  gardens,  where  Fatima 
and  Haroun-al-Raschid  might  even  yet  lurk  in  spirit. 
Driving  down  the  Shoubrah  in  the  lovely  afternoons, 
her  faithful  maid  in  attendance,  la  belle  Americaine  was 


264  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  Dapper  French  counts,  pon 
derous  German  barons,  smirking  Italian  princes,  blase" 
English  officers,  and  keen-eyed  wandering  Americans 
turned  to  gaze  after  this  sweet-faced  woman  whose  violet 
eyes  and  golden  hair  were  the  sensation  of  the  social 
hour. 

"  Who  is  she  ?     What  is  she  ?  "  resounded  on  all  sides. 

Perfect  in  her  dress,  with  her  cold  reserve  and  self- 
contained  manner,  the  unknown  goddess  ruled  a  court 
of  eager  admirers  from  a  chilling  distance.  Her  easy 
luxury  and  perfect  surroundings  spoke  of  wealth  and 
position.  Yet  the  whisper  grew,  "Why  is  she  always 
alone  ?" 

All  unconscious  of  the  general  attention,  Eleanor 
Laurence  gazed  on  the  mighty  pyramids  of  Ghizeh,  wan 
dered  at  the  base  of  the  great  Sphinx,  or  strayed — a 
brilliant  modern  beauty — through  the  lovely  gardens  of 
Boulak,  where  the  silver-veiled  ladies  of  the  Harem 
shyly  parted  the  spiced  bowers  and  blossoming  rose- 
vines  to  gaze  on  the  Frankish  Daughter  of  Light.  Dis 
creetly  accompanied  by  reliable  valets-de-place  from  the 
hotel,  the  ex-belle  of  Denver  daily  explored  the  dim 
Mouski,  and  chaffered  with  the  grave-faced  Arab  mer 
chants,  in  its  picturesque  gloom,  for  pearls,  rare  scarfs, 
and  all  the  riches  of  the  unequalled  kaleidoscopic 
bazaars  of  the  mystic  old  town.  Dreaming  away  day 
after  day,  she  lingered  in  the  quaint  winter  city  where 
the  whole  world  pours  up  and  down  the  palm-shaded 
avenues — in  a  polyglot  parade.  From  the  battlements 
of  the  frowning  citadel  she  marked,  with  delighted  eye, 
the  great  city,  with  its  embowered  gardens,  its  grand 
mosques  of  fanciful  Arabic  architecture — their  huge 
domes  sharp  cut  against  the  bluest  sky  over  the  earth— 
their  pencilled  minarets  piercing  the  thin  upper  air, 
whence  the  voice  of  the  muezzin  fell  "  like  the  accents 
of  an  angel  voice." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  265 

Alone,  and  yet  not  alone  !  In  the  world,  yet  dream 
ing,  seeking  self-forgetfulness,  Marie  Ashton,  at  night, 
hid  her  fair  face  with  her  hands  as  she  thought  of  Tom 
Overton's  lonely  death  in  the  far  Honduras  hills.  She 
could  see  him  again  as  he  waved  his  last  adieu — strong, 
alert,  his  form  wrapped  in  manhood's  highest  mantle  of 
courage,  strength,  and  desperate  resolve. 

Morton's  gloomy  shade,  too,  was  a  memory.  In  what 
lonely  hour  did  his  passionate  spirit  take  wing  ?  In  a  far- 
off  land — his  own  thoughts  goading  him  on,  unthinking 
of  his  doom  ?  Marie  knew  only  of  the  deaths — the  brief 
words  of  the  telegrams.  All  else  was  merely  conjecture. 
She  banished  away  these  haunting  visions,  and  sought  to 
think  herself  clean-handed — innocent  of  those  two  un 
timely  deaths.  And  yet  it  had  to  come.  Her  whole  life 
had  been  only  "  parting,"  and  a  panorama  of  scenes 
which  made  her  lonely  hours  fearsome.  "  At  least,  I  was 
wise  not  to  answer  anything.  No  one  can  ever  trace  me 
from  that  horrible  Central  American  shore." 

The  silvery  Nile  wooed  her  to  its  mystic  shores : 
Marie  was  under  a  spell,  as  she  sailed  up,  on  a  princely 
dahabieh,  toward  mighty  Karnak  and  Luxor,  toward  the 
Cataracts — the  history-haunted  upper  gates  of  Egypt. 
There  the  priceless  jewel  of  olden  cycles — beautiful, 
lonely  Philae— lies,  its  silent  temple  the  century-hallowed 
Bride  of  the  Past.  Her  life  glided  by  as  a  vision 
in  a  glass.  Day  by  day,  her  beauty  mellowing  in  the 
rest  and  ease  of  these  delightful  days,  Marie  Ashton 
grew  into  a  newer  life,  a  fresher  loveliness,  and  a  forget- 
fulness  of  the  stormy  past.  Her  vague,  haunting  fears 
of  the  future  vanished,  hour  by  hour,  and  her  blooming 
cheek  was  as  delicate  in  its  rosy  flush  as  the  morning 
skies  she  sailed  under. 

At  the  Ezbekieh  she  had  noted  a  staid,  self-possessed 
American  of  sixty,  who  bore  himself  with  the  ease  of  a 
veteran  traveller.  On  her  dahabieh  the  same  voyager  was, 


266  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

strange  to  say,  a  fellow-passenger.      Fanny,  with  ready 
colored  sagacity,  noted  the  quiet  steadiness  with  which 
his  keen  eyes  ever  followed  her  mistress.      Mr.   John 
Martin  was  a  retired  California  miner,  who   sought    in 
travel  and  rest  a  relief  from  the  results  of  early  hardship. 
The  chattering  maid  gradually  learned  all  the  details  of 
Mr.    Martin's   career.      The   whole  Western  slope   was 
known  to  him.      His  wealth  was  undoubted.     His  unas 
suming  manner  marked  him  as  an  exceptional   "Argo 
naut,"  in  that  sense  of  repose,  which  so  many  Western 
men  strangely  lack.      A  world-weary,  tired  man,  he  lived 
now  only    for  quiet   enjoyment   and  to    see   that   great 
world  for  whose  delights  and  luxuries  he  had  toiled  years 
on  sandbar  and  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Sierras.     Little 
courtesies  of  the  voyage  brought  them  together.     Marie 
Ashton — as  Eleanor  Laurence — recognized  many  friends 
and  familiar  scenes  in  the  stories  he  told  her  of  his  life 
and  wanderings.      Simple,    kindly,  and    unaffected,  the 
elderly  Othello  doted  on  this  Western  Desdemona.     With 
no  fulsome  compliment,   without   boyish    eagerness,    he 
made  himself  absolutely  necessary  to  her  daily  life.    Days 
glided  into  weeks.      Night  by  night,  this  strangely  as 
sorted   couple  watched  the  stars  sink  into  the  Libyan 
Desert,  or  sat  under  the  Nile-glow  in  the  peace  of  the 
quiet  evening  hour.     The  new  Eleanor    Laurence    was 
touched  by  his  deference — the  ready  courtesy  of  a  man 
long  separated    from    women  —  and    his   quiet   mastery 
over  his  surroundings.     His  life,  his  struggles,  his  whole 
feelings,  were   all    made   familiar   to  her,   as   the   good 
boat    Tewfik    Pacha   glided    down    the    great    historic 
river  along   whose   shores   the    tramp   of   armed    hosts 
has  waked  the  brooding  silence  from  the  days  of  Semir- 
amis,  Alexander,  and   Napoleon,  to  these  later  days  of 
the  futile  British  assaults  on  the  unconquered  fanatics 
of  the  Soudan. 

On  the  night  before  the  arrival  at  Cairo,  John  Martin, 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  267 

quietly  and  with  dignity,  laid  his  lonely  heart  open  to 
the  woman  who  had  charmed  him  into  a  newer  life.  It 
was  a  strange  friendship,  a  stranger  courtship,  a  stranger 
marriage  still  ;  for,  two  days  after  the  arrival  at  Cairo, 
Eleanor  Laurence  became  the  wife  of  the  millionnaire 
voyager. 

"We  are  alone  in  the  world.  You  shall  do  as  you 
will — go  where  you  please.  We  can  be  wanderers,  or 
rest  ourselves  when  we  choose,"  was  his  proposed  plan 
of  action. 

While  Seth  Wise,  returning  from  Florida,  read,  with 
wonder  and  wild  astonishment,  these  social  news  with 
his  eager  young  lieutenants,  the  new-made  husband  and" 
wife  were  wending  their  easy  way  to  Paris  for  a  rest, 
having  seen  Constantinople  and  threaded  the  island- 
gemmed  Greek  sea,  lingering  at  dreamy  Venice  and  wan 
dering  through  Switzerland,  and  down  the  never-forgot 
ten  Rhine. 

Every  day  the  beautiful  wife  gained  the  confidence  of 
her  quiet  husband.  She  thought,  with  a  new,  proud 
sense  of  perfect  safety,  of  his  daily  care,  and  feared  no 
future  shadow  on  her  path.  Overton  had  always  per 
suaded  her  Walton  was  dead.  As  for  the  other  horrid 
phantoms  of  her  clouded  past — the  memories  of  Overton 
and  Morton — she  had  locked  them  in  the  inner  cell  of 
her  heart  and  thrown  the  key  in  Lethe's  stream.  She 
had  reached  self-forgetfulness. 

Seth  Wise,  leaving  his  fair  charge,  Claire,  renewing  the 
roses  rapidly  on  her  cheeks  in  balmy  Florida,  hastened 
back  to  New  York,  to  make  a  last  judicious  effort  for 
the  recovery  of  the  stolen  funds.  The  old  operator 
feared  to  drive  wary  Marie  Ashton  into  flight.  She 
must  be  handled  with  silken  gloves. 

When,  on  his  arrival,  he  pored  over  all  the  Cairo  let 
ters,  he  was  amazed.  His  young  counsellors  were  as 
tounded  at  the  strange  marriage.  None  of  them  could 


268  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

measure  the  incessant  craving  for  some  real  foundation 
for  the  future — for  protection  and  for  fixed  position— 
which  decided  the  wandering  woman  to  join  her  fate 
with  quiet  John  Martin.  She  had  seen  so  many  vicissi 
tudes,  in  Overton's  desperate  games  and  his  wild  specu 
lations  !  The  misery  of  her  early  life  of  blighting 
poverty  had  branded  her  younger  days. 

While  this  trinity  of  New  York  friends  plotted  against 
her  peace,  the  new-made  Mrs.  John  Martin  rode  in  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  fancied  impregnability.  Yet,  even 
in  her  hours  of  comfort,  the  haunting  fear  of  the  old 
life  would  rise  up.  If  she  should  be  discovered — horror  ! 

"  My  God  !  Martin  never  shall  know  all."  Death 
itself  would  be  better  than  final  disgrace  in  the  eyes  of 
the  one  man  who  had  trusted  her  with  his  name,  a  future 
fortune,  and  placed  her  on  a  pedestal  of  outward  social 
respectability. 

John  Martin  was  cheerfully  busied  looking  for  a  suita 
ble  house  in  Paris  as  a  pied  a  terre.  Marie,  in  the  Bois, 
was  the  envied  of  the  wayfarer.  Her  equipage — rich, 
and  in  excellent  taste — spoke  only  of  easy  means  and 
permanent  luxury.  The  Hotel  Meurice  harbored  John 
Martin  and  his  bride — for  the  lady  shunned  the  glaring 
publicity  of  the  Grand  Hotel. 

While  Wise  and  his  aides  studied  the  problem  of  at 
tacking  Marie,  the  keen  eyes  of  Mrs.  Ed.  Haggerty 
recognized  once  more  the  once  wayward  Witch  of  Har 
lem. 

Haggerty,,  with  chuckles  of  triumph,  cabled  all  possible 
details  to  New  York. 

"  I  don't  like  to  lose  your  help  even  for  a  few  weeks, 
'but  you  had  better  both  go,"  Wise  decided.  He  had 
now  a  skeleton  of  Maxwell's  plan.  "  You  are  on  the 
right  track,"  he  approved.  "She  must  be  irritated, 
frightened,  cajoled,  threatened,  and,  if  need  be,  re 
warded.  She  has  something  to  lose  now." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  269 

And  Ralph  Burnham  feared  to  tell  Wise  of  his  brief 
love-dream. 

On  a  bright  May  morning,  Ralph  Burnham  and  Walter 
Maxwell,  after  a  quiet  trip,  entered  the  bureau  in  Paris, 
where  Ed.  Haggerty  now  ministered  to  the  pleasures  and 
business  of  his  travelling  countrymen — largely  to  his 
own  profit.  He  had  gained  quite  the  Parisian  air.  Fear 
ing  that  the  shy  bird  might  take  flight — after  a  council 
of  war,  Haggerty,  scenting  future  large  douceurs,  shad 
owed  daily  the  movements  of  John  Martin.  But  Martin 
was  not  the  object  of  attack.  The  lady  and  the  bonds  ! 

Burnham's  ammunition  for  the  coming  battle  consisted 
of  Overton's  note-book.  Maxwell's  battery  was  his  Col 
orado  notes,  and  the  marriage  certificate. 

With  repressed  excitement,  the  two  friends  entered  the 
Hotel  Meurice,  when  notified  of  John  Martin's  depart 
ure — for  a  brief  trip  to  London — on  business.  His 
mines  and  properties  demanded  continual  care,  even  in 
far-off  Europe.  The  slavery  of  wealth  ! 

Their  cards  were  sent  up,  and  in  five  minutes  the 
young  ambassadors  of  the  bank  were  face  to  face  with 
Mrs.  John  Martin. 

Seated  in  her  private  parlor,  the  bride  of  the  absent 
millionnaire  was  calm  and  watchful.  Her  first  thought, 
to  deny  herself  to  them,  was  quickly  abandoned.  "  They 
have  easily  found  me  out.  I  will  face  them,  for  they 
might  use  that  meanest  of  all  coward  weapons — the  anony 
mous  letter."  Even  whispered  scandal  would  ruin  her. 
Martin  must  never  know  the  past. 

Defiant  and  cool,  her  one  guiding  thought  was  that 
John  Martin  should  be  spared. 

Burnham's  eyes  were  downcast,  and  a  bright  red  spot 
burned  on  his  cheeks.  He  could  not  meet  the  unflinch 
ing  eye  of  Marie  with  his  wonted  coolness. 

Maxwell  was  a  perfect  master  of  his  feelings.  He 
eyed  both  Ralph  and  the  lovely,  watchful  woman. 


270  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Madam,"  began  Burnham,  "  you  may  be  easily  aware 
we  come  to  see  you  on  important  business.  I  will  be 
brief,  and  endeavor  not  to  delay  or  annoy  you."  His 
voice  gained  steadiness  as  he  proceeded.  "  We  are 
informed  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Overton,  your 
one-time  guardian.  We  are  aware  of  your  flight  from 
New  York  with  him." 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  coldly  said  Marie.  "  I  left  New  York 
City  in  a  perfectly  regular  manner,  and  am  not  account 
able  to  you.  Mr.  Overton  had  no  control  over  my  move 
ments." 

Burnham  flinched  a  little.  "  The  schooner  Restless 
has  now  returned.  You  used  an  assumed  name  in  your 
flight.  We  know  of  the  name  Overton  also  took— 
'  Robert  Randall,'  and  you  sailed  as  *  Mrs.  Eleanor 
Laurence.'  " 

"  We  will  not  discuss  that.  It  is  no  crime  for  me  to 
use  any  part  of  my  family  name — if  I  choose,"  Marie 
retorted. 

"  But  the  enormous  bank  robbery  on  the  date  of  your 
departure  hangs  over  you  both,"  Burnham  hotly  said. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  connect  me  with  it  ? "  Marie  sternly 
said. 

"  Overton  was  the  thief.  We  have  proofs,  obtained 
from  his  dead  body,"  Burnham  fiercely  remarked. 

"  Then  seek  him — in  his  distant  grave — for  your  busi 
ness.  Your  remarks  to  me  are  mere  conjecture  and  mad 
insult.  If  you  have  nothing  further  to  say,  I  will  leave." 
She  rose  and  faced  them.  "  I  defy  you  to  connect  me 
with  this  or  any  robbery,  by  even  the  faintest  shade  of 
suspicion.  I  have  now  a  protector  who  shall  deal  with 
you." 

Maxwell's  warning  eyes  rested-'on  Burnham,  who  con 
tinued  to  speak.  "  Pardon  me,  madam,"  he  proceeded  ; 
"  I  will  be  very  brief.  You  may  not  know  that  Overton, 
or  his  gang,  murderously  assaulted  our  watchman  ;  that 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  271 

our  chief  clerk  fell  under  his  fatal  influence  ;  that  one  of 
the  two  unfortunates  is  a  bedridden  invalid — almost  an 
idiot — and  the  other  an  insane  wreck,  as  the  result  of 
this  dead  devil's  work.  Now,  you  accompanied  the 
robber,  Overtoil,  to  Central  America.  He  was  arrested 
on  his  first  visit  to  the  shore.  You  retained  all  his  baggage 
and  papers.  The  plunder,  or  a  large  part  of  it,  was  left  in 
your  hands — for  he  was  almost  penniless,  when  killed. 
We  demand  of  you,  in  the  name  of  justice,  restitution  of 
the  property  stolen  by  him.  You  may  have  been  innocent, 
till  then  :  you  have,  or  have  had,  a  fortune  since  in  your 
possession  which  is  the  property  of  our  bank." 

"And  you  ask  me — "  she  began. 

"  To  return  the  bonds  and  money  found  by  you.  We 
are  not  anxious  to  needlessly  harass  you,  but  we  will  use 
every  means  to  force  you  to  disgorge.  The  law — 

Marie  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  Your  husband  shall  know  all,"  Burnham  hotly  cried. 

"  Coward  !  "  she  hissed,  springing  to  her  feet.  "  He 
will  cowhide  you  for  your  insult,  old  as  he  is  !  Now 
listen  !  "  Her  eyes  flashed.  "I  am  not  answerable  to 
you  or  your  friends  in  any  way.  I  escaped  only  with 
my  life  from  a  dangerous  voyage.  I  did  satisfy  myself 
of  Overtoil's  death.  I  defy  you,  with  your  story  of  a 
wounded  watchman  and  an  insane  clerk.  I  am  out  of 
your  power — beyond  your  reach.  My  private  life  is  my 
own  :  and  you  have  no  part  in  it.  I  defy  you,  and  you 
can  call,  at  your  peril,  upon  my  husband.  I  have  done 
with  you." 

"  Our  agent,  Morton,  found  all  the  proofs  of  guilt  on 
Overton's  dead  body,"  Burnham  resolutely  answered. 
"You  shall  be  forced  to  give  an  account  of  yourself." 

"  I  defy  you.  I  defy  him.  Where  is  he  ? "  cried 
Marie,  with  a  contemptuous  ring  in  her  voice. 

"  He  is  dead  in  Honduras,  a  part  of  your  work," 
Burnham  almost  shouted. 


272  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Maxwell  watched  the  face  of  the  beautiful  woman  at 
bay.  It  never  changed  a  muscle.  "  Great  heavens  ! 
what  an  actress  !  "  he  murmured. 

"  I  knew  not  of  his  death.  I  care  not.  What  was  he 
to  me  ?  "  Her  voice  had  a  desperate  ring  in  it. 

"  He  was  your — "  Burnham's  voice  died  away,  as 
Marie  glanced  at  him  with  an  infinite  contempt.  He 
felt  his  own  weakness  here.  He  writhed  under  the 
cold  scorn  of  that  glance.  It  recalled  the  past ! 

She  turned,  with  the  air  of  a  conquering  queen,  to 
leave  the  room.  Maxwell's  voice  broke  the  silence  for 
the  first  time.  "  Madam,"  said  he,  "  permit  me,  a  mo 
ment.  Will  you  listen  to  a  few  words  from  me  ?  " 

She  was  touched  by  his  moderation.  Seating  herself, 
she  said  quietly,  "  Proceed." 

Burnham,  baffled  and  ashamed,  gazed  at  the  speakers. 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  a  little  visit  to  some  old 
friends  in  New  Orleans,"  Maxwell  softly  said — Marie 
started  slightly — "  and  in  Leadville  and  Denver."  He 
paused.  Her  blazing  eyes  were  now  steadily  fixed  on 
him.  "  I  learned  there,  with  deep  regret,  of  the  death 
of  Mr.  Overton,  whom  I  had  no  reason  to  connect  with 
this  robbery.  I  saw  many  of  his  old  friends  there. 
They  were  astonished  at  his  tragic  end." 

Marie  was  bewildered  by  this  apparent  kindness. 

**  I  would  be  happy  to  know  him  innocent.  I  believe 
you  are  the  only  person  who  could  relieve  his  memory 
from  such  a  stain." 

She  was  growing  interested. 

"  I  know  you  know  of  his  life  for  some  years  past.  I 
will  tell  you  a  little  story  about  a  woman  who,  probably, 
will  claim  any  property  Mr.  Overton  left." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  quietly  sneered.  u  I  presume,  some  Col 
orado  friend." 

"  Precisely,"  he  answered  gently.     "  Kate  Walton  !  " 

Marie  was  now  gazing  at  him  with  blanched  cheeks. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  273 

Her  eyes  were  glued  on  the  speaker.  In  a  monotone, 
he  briefly  recounted  the  whole  history  of  her  own  life,  to 
her  arrival  in  New  York.  Burnham,  with  cold  malignity, 
watched  her  growing  agitation.  When  the  recital  was 
finished,  she  cast  a  despairing  glance  at  Maxwell. 

"  Who  told — you — this  nonsense  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"Walton  himself,"  Maxwell  answered,  flashing  a  deter 
mined  glance  at  her. 

Marie  reeled  and  staggered.  "  Walton  !  My  God  ! 
he's  dead,"  she  almost  yelled. 

"  I  saw  him  at  Leadville,  not  a  month  and  a  half  ago," 
Maxwell  replied  calmly.  "  He  is  in  the  county  clerk's 
office  as  a  deputy,  and  I  am  in  daily  communication  with 
him." 

The  new-made  wife  of  John  Martin  swayed  to  and 
fro  in  anguish. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  distress  you,  but  you  see,"  Maxwell 
continued,  "  there  is  such  a  thing  as  bigamy.  Your  hold 
on  John  Martin  is  now  nothing.  Your  marriage  is  void. 
He  is  innocent,  but  jw* — are — in  a  very  dangerous  posi 
tion.  Think  of  this." 

The  excited  woman  paced  the  floor  and  wildly  cried  : 
"  Overton  lied  to  me.  He  deceived  me." 

Like  a  stroke  of  lightning,  this  news  shattered  her 
new-built  palace  of  delight.  In  the  power  of  her  enemies, 
now,  with  no  hold  on  the  dignified  and  trusting  man  she 
had  married — it  was  a  master-stroke  of  fate. 

Maxwell  approached  her  kindly.  "We  will  call  after 
dinner.  Think  this  thing  over.  See  what  you  can  do 
for  us.  Now,  to  show  you  my  power  :  Here  is  a  copy  of 
your  marriage  certificate  to  Walton.  The  certified  copy, 
attested  by  the  State  Department,  is  under  lock  and  key 
in  this  city.  There  is  no  need  to  harass  John  Martin.  I 
leave  your  own  domestic  affairs  to  your  conscience,"  he 
said  gravely. 

Marie,  the  vanquished  Witch  of  Harlem,  staggered  to 
18 


274  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

her  room,  as  the  emissaries  of  Wise,  the  avengers  of 
Morton,  left.  With  staring  eyes  she  gazed  into  vacancy — 
till  the  shadows  fell  over  Notre  Dame.  Faithful  Fanny 
forced  her  to  take  a  semblance  of  nourishment.  Her 
every  faculty  was  strained  to  its  utmost  tension.  "  He 
shall  meet  a  dead  wife  on  his  return — if  this  disgrace 
becomes  public.  I  must  find  a  way  out." 

Rapidly  unravelling  the  seams  of  her  corset,  she  took 
out  a  letter  quilted  in  its  folds.  It  was  Overton's  memo 
randum  of  the  bonds  and  their  numbers,  made  on  the 
Restless.  Her  eyes  flashed  with  a  sudden  light. 

"  I  am  not  as  helpless  as  they  would  think.  Here  are 
all  the  numbers  of  all  the  bonds.  They  have  not  got 
them.  Tom  told  me  so.  How  can  they  identify  them  ? 
Morton  and  Overton  are  both  dead.  I  will  be  their  only 
help  to  recover  the  cash  and  bonds  left  in  New  York. 
The}'  cannot  know — they  do  not  know — their  numbers. 
But  if  I  give  them  the  bonds,  they  may  punish  me.  We 
will  see."  Her  mind  was  excited  to  its  utmost  tension. 

Yes,  it  was  true.  Overton  had  given  her  the  list  of  the 
bond  numbers  and  destroyed  the  page  in  his  little  note 
book.  "  It's  too  dangerous  to  carry  around.  We've  got 
the  bonds,  and  you  can  keep  the  numbers." 

"  I'll  be  a  little  cautious,"  she  murmured.  u  They  are 
powerless  to  act  without  me." 

Throwing  herself  on  the  couch,  she  slept  till  her 
visitors  arrived. 

Maxwell  was  in  an  uncertain  mood,  for  his  pet  scheme 
hung  on  a  hair.  Had  Marie  Ashton  any  communication 
with  Denver  ?  If  so,  their  hold  was  slight,  for  Maxwell's 
pocket-book  contained  a  cablegram,  just  received,  re 
peating  a  New  York  despatch  to  him  : 

Walton  died  yesterday  at  Leadville  of  consumption. 

(Signed)  MERRIMAN. 

So  it  was  with  an  armed  neutrality — a  waiting  game 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  275 

and  a  wholesome  mutual  fear — that  Maxwell  and  Marie 
Ashton  faced  each  other.  The  two  friends  were  aston 
ished  at  her  cheerful  face.  They  were  ashamed  to  leave 
to  confer  privately. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,"  Marie  began,  "as  the  bank  holds  me 
responsible,  it  seems,  for  Mr.  Overton's  property,  or  a 
large  amount  of  bonds  and  money,  I  ask  you  if  you 
could  identify  the  bonds.  If  you  have  a  list  of  the 
numbers,  I  will  look  at  it — as  well  as  the  class  and 
denomination  of  the  bonds.  You  say  you  have  full 
details  from  his  private  memorandum-book.  Let  me 
see  it." 

Maxwell  studied  her  inscrutable  face.  His  heart  sank 
as  he  thought  of  the  telegram.  Did  she  know  of  Wal 
ton's  death  ?  She  was  a  free  woman  now.  Only,  Martin 
could  annul  the  marriage.  And  his  faith,  her  beauty, 
her  wiles,  her  pleading,  her  story  of  injured  innocence  ! 

The  two  friends  were  silent. 

"  I  see  you  have  no  list  of  the  numbers.  Now  I  will 
give  you  a  matter  to  think  of.  Suppose  the  securities 
you  seek  were  largely  in  New  York — how  will  you  recover 
them  ?  I  don't  say  they  are — I  say  they  might  be.  If 
you  knew  where  they  were,  you  would  not  worry  me  ?  " 

Their  faces  were  blank.  It  was  a  new  thought.  It 
might  be  true. 

"  Where  is  your  proof  ?  Do  you  need  me  ?  Yes,  more 
than  I  need  you."  Her  voice  rang  with  triumph.  "  You 
can  let  me  see  the  book  you  speak  of.  I  know  Overton's 
handwriting.  As  for  your  gossip  about  Walton,  I  have 
already  cabled  to  Denver.  I  don't  believe  he  is  alive. 
Until  you  show  me  the  Overton  book,  until  I  have  the 
certified  marriage  certificate  destroyed,  I  will  go  no 
further.  You  need  me  more  than  I  need  you.  Now, 
come  to  me  to-morrow,  at  nine.  My  husband  returns 
to-morrow  night.  If  you  do  not  secure  me  from  scandal, 
you  will  never  know  where  the  bulk  of  the  property  may 


276  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

be  in  New  York.  It  is  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth.  You  may  ruin  me,  but,  by  the  God  above,  you 
will  recover  no  part  of  your  missing  funds.  I  do  not 
believe  Walton  is  alive.  I  will  know  soon,"  cried  the 
quick-witted  woman,  as  they  left,  to  return  for  a  final 
interview. 

Maxwell  was  speechless.      "  She  will  learn  the  truth." 

Burnham  and  Maxwell  burned  the  midnight  oil  on  this 
knotty  question.  Ralph  had  utterly  failed  to  intimidate 
her.  Maxwell's  victory  was  frustrated  by  the  sudden 
news  of  the  demise  of  the  man  whose  shattered  system 
might  have  succumbed  to  drink  and  opium  any  day  for 
ten  years. 

"  We  must  compromise,"  Maxwell  said.  "  She  may 
aid  us,  if  we  settle  with  her.  The  devil  fights  steadily 
on  her  side.  She  is  a  witch." 

Weary  and  heavy-eyed,  the  friends  met  Marie  Martin 
next  day.  She  swept  into  the  parlor  like  a  grand  duchess 
of  the  proudest  court.  Without  a  word,  she  laid  a  cable 
gram  before  Maxwell.  He  read  it,  and  dropped  it  with 
a  groan.  She  had  received  her  own  despatches  from 
Denver. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  now  prepared  to  negotiate,"  she 
said,  in  a  ringing  voice. 

"  What  are  you  willing  to  do  ?"  said  Burnham  meekly. 
She  turned  her  eyes  on  Maxwell.  She  instinctively  knew 
the  fighting  man  of  the  two  :  Burnham  was  to  her  only 
a  human  turnip — a  mass  of  mere  fibre. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,"  the  Witch  of  Harlem  said  quietly, 
"  did  you  ever  play  poker  ?  "  Maxwell — with  a  start- 
could  not  deny  the  soft  impeachment.  "  You  have  tried 
to  bluff  me.  I'll  play  my  lone  hand  against  both  of  you." 
And  Marie  Martin,  as  she  forgot  "  Eleanor  Laurence  " 
and  "  Marie  Ashton,"  for  one  moment  more  in  her  life 
was  fearless  "  Colorado  Kate. " 

Maxwell   gazed    on   her   in    undisguised   admiration. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  277 

Alone  and  helpless — she  was  fighting  hard  for  the  honor 
of  an  old  man,  who  believed  her  something  beyond  the 
stars. 

Walter  Maxwell  had  a  certain  manly  strain  :  he  was 
not  altogether  proud  of  the  mission  he  followed. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  he  huskily  asked,  for  Ralph 
Burnham  was,  in  this,  a  mere  pawn. 

"  Well,  I'll  give  you  the  value  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  United  States  bonds,"  cried  Marie  Ashton,  "  to 
have  that  silver-haired  old  man  let  alone.  But — "  her 
brows  were  dark. 

"Well  !  "  Maxwell  coldly  replied. 

"  You  are  to  burn  before  my  eyes  the  certified  copy  of 
that  marriage  certificate  :  you  are  then  to  hold  your  dogs 
off,  and  I  then  will  post  you  on  the  business  in  New 
York."  She  spoke  as  if  Burnham  were  only  a  mist  of 
thin  blue  air.  She  looked  through  him — over  him.  She 
was  only  fighting  Maxwell. 

"  I'll   talk  this  over  with   my  friend,"  said  Maxwell. 

"  Not  another  word  !  "  cried  Marie  Ashton.  "  You 
lied  to  me  last  night.  I  want  no  traps  laid  for  me. 
Decide,  or  I  will  recall  the  offer." 

Maxwell  knew  that  she  had  fathomed  their  weak  point. 
He  walked  out  for  a  few  moments. 

Maxwell's  cheek  was  burning  when  he  returned. 
"  Mrs.  Martin — "  he  began. 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said.     "  Do  you  accept  ?" 

He  whispered,  "  Yes." 

Then  the  Witch  of  Harlem  said  :  "  I'll  see  you  now 
alone.  Don't  bring  that  thing  here.  In  an  hour,  I'll  be 
ready." 

Mr.  Ed.  Haggerty's  further  wiles  were  now  all  vain. 
The  Witch  of  Harlem  was  fighting  for  her  life.  She 
coldly  said  to  Maxwell  :  u  I  will  see  that  marriage  cer 
tificate  burned.  I  will  take  a  proper  document  from 
you.  You  are  to  go  back  to  New  York  at  once.  I  will 


27&  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

accept  drafts  for  the  value  of  the  bonds,  and  deposit  the 
cash  here  to  my  banker's  order  to  cover  them.  But  you 
— and  that  cringing  cur,  Burnham — must  be  over  the 
ocean.  He  is  a  poor  judge  of  my  relations  with  Overton. 
Fool  !  " 

"  Won't  you  give  me,  now,  the  lists  of  the  bonds  ? " 
Maxwell  cried. 

She  said,  with  a  bound,  "  Yes,  you  will  get  them  in 
New  York.  I  will  see  you  have  also  a  share  of  this 
missing  property,  but  you  must  lay  down  your  arms. 
Listen  ! "  said  she.  "  I  won't  have  John  Martin  listen 
to  any  coward  gabble.  By  the  gods  above  !  I'll  kill 
myself,  and  you  will  lose  all.  Don't  forget,  Mr.  Walter 
Maxwell,  the  last  thing  that  I  would  do  is  to  burn  all  my 
papers.  Checkmate  for  you  !  " 

Maxwell  said  kindly,  as  he  pressed  her  burning  hands  : 
"  Let  me  be  your  friend.  I  do  not  wish  to  brand  you." 

"  Friend  !  "  she  mocked.  "  Woman  is  only  hunted, 
like  the  tiger,  for  the  beauty  of  her  skin.  Maxwell,"  she 
said,  "  you  have  my  last  word." 

"  And  what  have  I  to  trust  in  ? "  Maxwell  cried. 

She  whirled  on  him  like  a  thunderbolt.  "  Am  I  not  as 
near  to  honor  as  you  are  ?  This  is  my  fight  to  the  death. 
You  have  the  honor  of  a  woman  who  has  met  men  for 
years  as  they  are — lovers  first,  tyrants  later,  liars 
always  ! " 

The  next  evening,  Maxwell  and  Burnham  were  on  the 
tidal  train.  They  carried  the  drafts  for  the  value  of  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  United  States  bonds — but 
Marie  Martin  coldly  said  adieu.  "  I  have  your  papers — 
destroyed.  Your  word  of  honor  !  I  will  wait,  mark  you, 
till  I  see  John  Martin  is  not  disturbed.  You  have  no 
further  hold  on  me.  I  have  given  one  hundred  and 
twenty-three  thousand  dollars  for  his  peace  of  mind." 
It  was  true. 

Maxwell,  in  saying  good-by,  pleaded  for  the  woman 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  279 

who  cherished  Harry  Morton's  memory.  The  Witch  of 
Harlem  lifted  her  proud  head,  and  said  :  "  I  have  given 
you  my  word.  She  will  be  held  scatheless.  I  know  the 
inevitable  clearing-house  of  the  fates :  Mr.  Burnham  '  to 
be  husband  '  vice  Morton  deceased."  And  she  laughed 
coldly  as  she  strode  away.  "  He  will  step  into  Morton's 
shoes.  But  you'll  not  get  the  numbers  of  those  bonds 
until  you  are  both  in  New  York."  Marie  Martin  was 
resolute,  and  the  baffled  emissaries  -were  fain  to  leave 
Paris  quietly. 

"  One  such  battle  will  do,  Maxwell,"  she  said  sharply. 
"  I  don't  care  to  open  this  matter  again." 

And  all  the  dreary  way  across  the  green,  rolling  Atlan 
tic,  Walter  Maxwell  wondered  what  had  made  Burnham 
so  dumb  before  the  hunted,  despairing  woman — for 
Ralph  was  mute.  Their  grand  coup  had  partly  failed. 
If  John  Martin  was  willing  to  finish  a  stormy  life  with 
the  woman  at  his  side,  Maxwell  himself  felt  small  at  the 
"  breaking  of  the  beautiful  butterfly."  It  was  too 
cowardly  work  for  him. 

And  when  simple  John  Martin  came  back  from  Lon 
don,  he  knew  not  that  the  tired  woman  who  welcomed 
him,  sick  of  sin,  weary  of  crime,  and  worn  with  intrigue 
— the  woman  who  lay  on  his  honest  breast — prayed  never 
to  feel,  by  his  anguish,  that  he  knew  what  kind  of  an 
"angel  he  had  entertained  unawares." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ON  THE  TRAIL.  SETH  WISE'S  BLUFF.  FIRST  BLOOD  FOR 
RILEY  AND  OLIVIERA.  DELILAH  OF  HARLEM  TO  THE 
RESCUE. 

THE    two    young    men    conferred    while    pacing   the 
steamer   deck,  as   they  neared    New  York.     Burnham's 


280  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

brow  was  sad.  He  did  not  feel  that  he  had  gained  a 
victor's  laurels  in  his  attack  upon  a  friendless,  desperate 
woman.  For  in  his  heart  he  still  treasured  a  childish 
memory  of  a  story  about  "  casting  the  first  stone."  He 
was  no  Sir  Galahad.  He  dared  not  meet  Marie  Ashton's 
eye  boldly. 

Seth  Wise — merry  and  rubicund — waited  for  the  re 
turning  emissaries.  The  magic  cable  told  him  of  their 
partial  success.  The  old  financier  was  fairly  happy. 
The  delicious  excitement  of  business  brought  back  to 
him  a  fresh  youth.  Claire  Morton  was  at  home  again, 
and  with  blooming  cheeks.  The  roses  were  now  plentiful 
on  dear  old  Broadway,  and  the  trees  in  the  squares  lifted 
their  tender  shoots  to  the  warm  sunlight  of  early  summer. 

"  I  think  I  can  see  a  way  out  of  all  this,"  Seth  mused. 
"With  Maxwell's  brains  and  Burnham's  popularity,  the 
new  firm  will  move  along."  He  had  visions  of  a  snug 
gery  of  his  own,  far  from  ticker  and  telephone,  where  he 
could  watch  the  white  sails  flit  by,  and  dream  of  the 
olden  financial  fields  in  which  his  spurs  were  gained. 
With  rare  inspiration,  Seth  reasoned  :  "  I  have  dabbled 
too  much  with  these  young  people's  lives.  I  will  let 
things  alone  a  little  while,  and  see  how  they  will  swing." 
For,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  had  a  great  compassion  for 
the  passionate  young  man  who  laid  his  life  down,  in 
Honduras,  beguiled  by  a  false  woman's  smile.  Yet 
Seth  Wise  knew  that  the  hunt  was  not  of  the  game,  but 
of  the  hunter.  Morton  was  the  cause  of  all  the  tangle — 
led  on  by  his  tempestuous  passions ! 

"  Foolish  boy  !  "  Seth  sadly  sighed,  as  he  called  back 
certain  tableaux  in  the  private  life  of  his  own  dear  self. 
"  This  smart  woman  was  too  strong  for  him,  at  all  points 
of  life's  game."  Wise,  a  retired  veteran  at  the  game  of 
hearts,  could  not  deny  that  Morton  had  gayly  entered, 
as  an  intrigue  of  pleasure,  into  a  struggle  which  cost 
him  life,  honor,  wife,  fortune,  and  public  respect.  "  Too 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  281 

late  to  mend  the  matter  now,"  he  murmured.  "  Claire  ! 
How  does  she  really  look  back  at  him  ?  "  For  she  was 
a  daily  study  to  Wise.  Wounded  vanity,  outraged  self- 
respect,  narrow-minded  jealousy  of  the  successful  siren 
— something  kept  Claire  Morton's  head  high.  She 
mourned  in  private,  if  at  all. 

"  Poor  Harry  Morton,  with  all  his  faults,  he  was  the 
making  of  an  ideal  banker — and — and — as  to  women," 
Seth  remarked,  sotto  voce,  "he  was,  like  all  of  us — a 
d d  fool." 

A  secret  pride  in  Morton's  manliness  possessed  old 
Seth.  The  slaying  of  Overton — his  own  life  laid  down 
on  the  romantic  quest ;  his  straightforward  last  letters — 
when  his  eyes  were  finally  opened,  caused  old  Seth,  over 
his  cigar,  to  drop  his  head  and  murmur  fondly :  "  Poor 
boy  !  poor  boy  !  Not  the  first  fool  who  has  thrown 
away  all  he  had,  before  the  erring  feet  of  a  careless  and 
unthankful  Phryne  !  This  little  game  of  life  goes  on 
forever,  and  will  forever." 

Yet  Seth,  with  twinges  of  conscience,  could  not  dis 
guise  that  Harry  Morton  trod  the  rosy  path  of  dalliance 
and  devilish  wickedness  merely  for  his  own  amusement. 
He  was  not  led  away.  So  the  old  man  wondered,  often, 
why  the  "  missing  rib  "  had  brought  such  fatal  fascina 
tions  even  into  our  workaday  world.  His  cogitations  on 
these  and  other  points  reached  the  average  level  of  hu 
manity.  There  still  lingered  on  his  own  lips  certain 
bitter  draughts  of  the  wine  of  life. 

After  many  sage  counsels,  Seth  delivered  his  final 
opinion  to  the  returning  ambassadors.  "  You'll  never  get 
the  figures  and  data  we  want  from  this  woman,  unless 
you  act  liberally  toward  her.  I  will  write  her  myself." 

So  old  Seth  opened  a  discreet  correspondence  with  the 
watchful  Witch,  at  Paris.  It  was  frank  and  manly  on  his 
part,  for  the  young  men  brought  a  secret  address,  given 
by  the  never-sleeping  guardian  of  her  own  rights.  The 


282  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

daily  round  of  New  York  life  glided  along,  its  under 
currents  of  tragedy,  its  deadly  whirlpools,  as  usual,  hidden 
under  the  smooth  surface.  Seth  was  astounded  when 
Marie  Morton  offered  to  come  to  New  York,  and  give 
her  evidence,  at  the  trial — if  needed — of  the  New  York 
accessories.  "I  should  judge,"  Seth  reasoned,  "that 
she  has  driven  this  old  man  almost  wild  with  her  en 
chantments.  She  seems  pretty  sure  of  her  position." 
And  still  the  list  of  the  bonds  was  not  forthcoming. 

"I  am  now  armed  against  any  intrusion,"  she  dis 
creetly  wrote.  "You  can  do  as  you  wish.  If  you  wish 
my  aid  you  can  have  it.  I  claim  one-third  of  your 
further  recovery  on  account  of  the  estate."  The  letters 
were  type-written,  and  all  unsigned.  A  meaning  clause 
said  :  "  Your  young  friends  know  my  address." 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  going  over  to  London,"  said  Seth 
Wise,  a  week  later.  He  was  really  nonplussed.  The 
dainty  Restless  was  lying  at  the  South  Ferry  docks.  He 
dared  not  yet  interfere,  for  the  cool  woman  in  Paris 
baffled  his  best  endeavors.  He  had  no  proofs  to  convict 
any  one  yet.  He  was  forced  to  let  the  crew  sail  away 
quietly.  "  I  don't  want  to  get  my  name  in  the  news 
papers,  and  be  the  sensation  of  a  week,"  the  old  man 
growled.  "I'll  slip  away  from  the  boys." 

Seth,  with  many  fatherly  injunctions,  begged  Ralph 
Burnham  to  watch,  in  his  absence,  over  Claire  Morton. 
The  warning  was  almost  needless.  For  Burnham's  form 
was  apparent,  several  evenings  a  week,  now,  by  Claire 
Morton's  fireside. 

These  things  never  escaped  Seth  Wise's  sharp  eye. 
"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  Burnham,"  he  soliloquized.  "  He's 
a  sort  of  a  moral  mugwump.  He's  a  kind  of  a  '  sure- 
thing  '  game  man.  After  all,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a 

snort,  "  Morton  was  a  d d  fool  on  women  ;  but  he 

was  a  king  above  this  chap." 

Leaving  Claire  and  Burnham  to  their  nightly  lukewarm 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  283 

tete-a-tete,  the  stern  old  banker  sped  away  to  London. 
"  I'll  see  this  charmer  again,"  he  mused. 

In  the  smoking  room — on  the  deck  of  the  tossing 
leviathan — Seth  formed  to  himself  a  highly  moral  address 
which  he  would  deliver  to  Marie  Martin  on  his  sub  rosa  ar 
rival  in  Paris.  She  was  warned  by  cable  of  his  arrival.  Yet 
he  was  entirely  of  another  mind  when  he  faced  the 
superb,  self-possessed  woman  who  welcomed  him  when 
his  card  was  sent  up,  in  the  Hotel  Meurice. 

John  Martin,  gravely  courteous,  received  the  visitor 
warmly,  and  left  them  alone,  for  the  conversation  which, 
he  was  told,  distantly  touched  his  wife's  estate. 

Seth  Wise,  an  aged  Samson,  was  soon  pliant  as  wax  in 
the  hands  of  this  modern  Delilah. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  she  said  quietly,  "we  must  be  brief, 
or  I  shall  have  to  excuse  myself."  Seth's  prepared 
speech  was  forgotten.  In  five  minutes,  they  were  talking 
like  old  friends.  Marie  quietly  showed  him  the  full  list 
of  the  bonds.  It  remained  in  her  blue-veined  hand, 
sparkling  with  flashing  rings.  "  Now,  my  dear  sir,"  she 
said,  with  insinuating  softness,  "  you  see  here  the  figures 
that  will  return  to  you  two  hundred  and  twelve  thousand 
dollars  of  your  property.  I  wish  to  have  one-third  of 
that  recovery  for  my  reward." 

"What  for?"  Wise  slowly  said.  "You  have  all  you 
want." 

"  True,"  smilingly  replied  the  Witch,  "  but  I  want  it. 
You  don't  know  how  much  good  I  can  do  with  it."  Her 
voice  was  cynical.  "  I  wish  my  husband  not  to  think  I 
came  empty-handed." 

"  How  shall  we  arrange  this  ?  "  Seth  muttered. 

"  Youycan  give  me  your  note,  payable  six  months  from 
date,  and  I  will  give  you  these  lists  and  all  I  know.  I 
leave  the  payment  to  your  honor,"  she  quietly  said. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  Wise  quickly  said.  "  Give  me  the 
lists." 


284  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

In  half  an  hour  Seth  Wise  walked  out  bewildered 
from  the  spider's  parlor  in  the  old  French  hostelry.  He 
dared  not  ask  himself  if  he  was  victorious,  but  he  cheered 
himself  with  the  futile  remark  that  he  had  done  the  very 
best  he  could. 

"  By  God  !  "  he  shouted,  as  the  Channel  boat  tossed 
him  around  like  a  cork,  "  I'll  make  Riley  and  Oliviera 
pay  for  all  this  misery."  For  the  old  banker  resented 
the  physical  anguish  he  now  suffered  every  minute. 
"  She's  a  wonderful  woman,"  he  reflected.  "  I  never  saw 
a  woman  who  would  not  weaken,  before.  What  does 
she  really  want  that  money  for  ?  "  Seth  was  mysterious 
on  his  arrival  in  New  York.  In  his  inner  office,  police, 
shipping  men,  detectives,  foreigners,  and  strangers  of 
weird  appearance,  disturbed  the  aristocratic  calm  of  the 
clerks,  who,  with  paste  diamonds  and  celluloid  cuffs  and 
collars,  conferred  an  air  of  "  Brummagem  elegance  "  on 
the  gloomy  temple  of  finance. 

Burnham  had  few  questions  to  offer,  and  nothing  to 
tell.  His  lethargic  and  easy-going  nature  was  satisfied 
with  the  now  nightly  visits  to  Claire  Morton. 

Burnham  dared  not  unfold  his  inner  soul  to  the  old 
banker.  When  the  old  quarrel  with  Harry  Morton 
brought  him  to  the  door  of  the  bank  without  capital — 
cast  loose  on  the  sea  of  New  York  life — he  bitterly  felt 
the  dependence  of  being  forced  to  cater  to  Seth  Wise — 
of  hanging  on  his  favors.  His  vanity  was  cut  by  the 
public  knowledge  of  his  financial  weakness.  In  his  lonely 
hours,  gloomily  reviewing  the  past,  lying  at  ease  in  his 
rooms,  he  swore  to  himself  :  "  I'll  be  independent  yet, 
and  then  these  people  will  know  whom  they  deal  with  !  " 

Yet  how  ?  For  fortunes  are  not  picked  up  on  the 
paving-stones  every  day  in  New  York.  The  brightest 
schemes  miscarry.  Burnham  realized,  with  bitter,  silent 
curses,  that  a  man  without  money  is  simply  a  surplus 
fool,  a  poor  pawn,  a  mute  slave  of  others,  in  New  York  ! 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  285 

"  I  must — I  will  have  money.  I  will  have  it  in  my  own 
hands.  No  leading  strings,  by  heaven  !  " 

This  craving  for  wealth  made  his  heart  leap  up  in  joy 
when  he  knew  that  Morton  was  laid  away  by  the  blue 
Pacific.  Burnham  slyly  dissembled.  Even  to  his  own 
semblance  in  the  mirror  he  dared  not  confess  that  the 
darling  hope  of  his  life  was  now  to  make  the  goodly 
balance  of  Harry  Morton's  fortune — Claire's  inheritance 
and  the  fair  young  widow  herself — all  his  own  in  due 
time. 

"  Damn  Morton's  impudence  !  He  tried  to  turn  me  out 
of  the  bank.  Ah  !  " — Burnham  rubbed  his  hands — "  it  is 
the  easiest  way  I  know  to  a  business,  a  fortune,  and  a 
pretty  wife.  I'll  administer  on  his  entire  estate.  By 
heaven  !  I'll  rule  old  Wise  through  Claire.  I'll  grab 
the  helm  of  that  business,  and  then  I'll  destroy  every 
vestige  of  his  memory.  I'll  not  let  a  soul  get  near  Claire. 
Trust  the  old  days  for  that !  "  And  Burnham,  compla 
cently  humming  an  antique  college  love-song,  hied  away 
to  artfully  console  Claire.  He  dared  not  own  to  himself 
that  the  burning  curses  he  heaped  on  Harry  Morton's 
name  were  made  gall  and  venom  by  the  knowledge  that 
the  dead  man  had  stolen  from  him  the  fair  Witch  of 
Harlem  as  well  as  his  first  love.  4<  He  got  his  reward — 
the  poor  fool  !  "  Burnham  cried. 

'*  I  must  watch  old  Seth.  He's  a  wary  fish,"  Ralph 
mused.  Therefore,  with  gradually  increasing  tender 
ness,  and  wistful  waiting,  a  never-failing  round  of  daily 
attentions  proved  to  Claire  Morton  that  Burnham  was 
sleepless  in  her  service.  Vanity  flourishes  even  under  a 
fair  widow's  weeds.  Burnham's  tender  assiduity  recalled 
to  the  woman,  whose  galled  pride  still  smarted  under 
Morton's  mad  folly,  the  graceful  Harvard  lad  who  wooed 
her  long  ago  in  the  old  days,  when  the  world  was  one 
love-tinted  rainbow. 

As  Seth  Wise  left  the  shores  of  America,  Burnham's 


286  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

heart  would  have  leapt  for  joy  could  he  have  seen  the 
graceful  Claire  bending  over  the  flowers  he  sent  daily, 
and  murmuring  :  "  Always  the  same — the  Ralph  of  old 
days !  " 

And  yet  Burnham  let  the  days  go  by  in  silence. 
He  feared  to  frighten  the  shy  dove  he  lured  to  his 
keeping.  "  I'll  let  her  come  half-way  to  meet  me,"  he 
cynically  murmured.  "  Widows  always  do." 

But  time  pressed.  The  firm  was  soon  to  be  reorganized, 
and  on  the  eve  of  Seth  Wise's  return,  Burnham,  with 
clouded  brow,  said  to  Claire  :  "  I  must  speak  with  you, 
now,  on  a  matter  of  great  importance.  Seth  Wise  will 
arrive  to-morrow." 

Claire  raised  her  gentle  eyes  to  his.  Her  heart  beat 
fast.  It  was  coming  at  last  ! 

Taking  her  two  hands  in  his,  Burnham  said  softly  : 
"  Claire,  I  will  not  speak  of  the  past.  You  know  what 
I  have  always  been  to  you. "  He  paused — her  head  was 
bowed.  Ralph  took  courage  to  proceed.  "  On  Seth's 
return,  the  firm  will  be  formally  reorganized.  I  know 
not  if  I  shall  be  asked  to  stay  by  him.  I  care  not.  My 
life  has  been  made  a  sad  one  for  years."  His  eyes  were 
searching  her  averted  face.  The  graceful  woman  in 
black  was  now  sobbing. 

Burnham  continued,  in  soft  monotone  :  "  If  I  leave 
New  York  now,  I  leave  it  forever." 

"And  why  must  you  go,  Ralph?"  Claire  queried, 
turning  shining  eyes  to  his  eager  gaze. 

"  It  rests  with  you  alone,"  he  said  simply.  "  I  will 
not  lead  a  life  of  hopeless  misery.  I  will  not  go  on  to 
final  ruin.  To  remain  here,  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
Seth — to  see  you — you — another's  wife.  Never  !  "  He 
sprang  up  and  paced  the  floor.  "  I  am  powerless.  If  I 
knew  your  heart,  I  would  take  courage  and  renew  the 
battle  of  life  here.  To  sign  myself  a  slave  of  the  lamp, 
and  live  to  see  you  happy  with  another,  would  be  mad- 


DELILAH   OF    HARLEM.  287 

ness.  I  can  make  no  bargains  with  Seth.  I  will  not 
yield  to  him  blindly  ! 

"Claire,"  he  whispered,  "I  dare  not  tell  this  harsh 
old  man  my  heart.  I  dare  not  cross  him.  I  cannot 
fight  him.  But  the  world  is  wide.  You,  alone,  hold  me 
back.  I  must  be  ready  to  meet  him.  I  will  not  flinch. 
Only  your  own  dear  lips  can  decide  my  fate.  Shall  I  go 
or  stay  ?  " 

The  silent  room  was  tenanted  by  two  beings  whose 
hearts  were  wildly  throbbing.  Burnham  eyed  the  grace 
ful  form  before  him,  draped  in  fleecy  black.  It  was  an 
agony  of  suspense.  Was  the  harvest  ready  ? 

He  rose,  and  mutely  moved  toward  the  door.  But  he 
sprang  to  her  side  and  caught  her  to  his  breast,  as  she 
stretched  her  arms  to  him,  crying  :  "  Don't  leave  me, 
Ralph.  Stay,  for  my  sake." 

In  another  hour,  Claire  Morton  knew  why  the  seal  of 
silence  must  be  kept  upon  their  coming  union  till  Seth 
Wise  had  spoken.  Prudence  demanded  silence  until  the 
man  of  millions  had  decided  the  financial  future  of  the 
reunited  lovers. 

"  Our  interests  are  the  same  now,  darling,"  Burnham 
murmured,  as  he  rose  to  go.  "  Trust  me,  my  own 
Claire." 

With  her  head  on  his  breast,  she  murmured,  "I  do." 

As  Burnham  led  her  to  a  divan,  and  kissed  her  fair 
hands  and  lips,  he  said  :  "  Remember,  not  a  word  or  sign 
till  I  tell  you  we  are  safe." 

The  agitated  woman  murmured  :  "  I  am  yours  in 
everything."  One  part  of  Morton's  inheritance  was 
now  secured  ! 

Burnham  turned  to  go,  and  as  he  did,  the  cold  pallid 
features  of  Harry  Morton  in  death  seemed  to  glare  from 
his  portrait  over  the  fireplace,  and  the  silent  lips  to  mut 
ter,  "  Forbear  !  " 

It  was  only  on  the  avenue,  in  lighting  his  cigar  after 


288  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

a  brisk  walk,  that  Ralph  Burnham's  shaken  nerves  were 
quieted.  "She  met  me  half-way,"  he  chuckled.  "I'll 
burn  that  fellow's  picture  up  in  a  few  months.  Now  for 
old  Seth  ! " 

Claire  Morton  tossed  on  an  uneasy  couch.  An  una 
voidable  destiny  had  given  her  hand  away  in  second 
marriage.  It  was  the  only  indicated  path. 

Burnham  would  not  have  felt  his  spirits  rise  as  high, 
in  this  flood-tide  of  good  fortune,  could  he  have  seen 
sturdy  old  Seth  Wise,  tramping  the  deck  of  his  steamer 
off  Fire  Island,  and  growling  :  "  I  suppose  he's  got  to 
have  the  woman  finally,  but  I'll  tie  the  property  up  so 
he  can  never  control  it.  That  will  keep  him  on  the 
safe  track." 

Two  weeks  after  Seth  Wise's  return  from  Paris,  he 
said,  one  evening  :  "  Maxwell,  I  want  you  with  me  for  a 
day  or  so.  I  have  some  outside  business." 

Maxwell  had  already  taken  on  the  wistful,  nervous, 
self-contained  face  of  the  Wall  Street  financier.  He  had 
drunk  of  the  fatal  waters,  and  the  philter  was  in  every 
pore  of  his  system. 

"  To-morrow — here — at  nine  in  the  evening;"  the  old 
man  ordered.  "  Be  quiet — say  nothing.  Have  a  good 
weapon  with  you,  and  a  still  tongue." 

At  ten  o'clock  next  evening,  Seth  Wise — the  perfection 
of  elderly  conservatism — quietly  walked  into  Jose  Oli- 
viera's  sanctum  on  South  Street.  Seating  himself,  with 
that  confident  air  which  will  not  be  denied,  Wise  awaited 
the  return  of  his  card.  Maxwell,  armed  and  with  his  cue 
ready,  was  at  Seth's  side.  In  a  few  moments,  the  peaked 
beard,  ferret  eyes,  and  velvet  voice  of  Jose  Oliviera  were 
manifested  to  the  visitors. 

"  Pray  enter,"  Oliviera  said,  with  florid  Castilian  cere 
mony,  as  he  was  on  his  guard.  He  well  divined  the 
object  of  Wise's  visit.  Both  Riley  and  he  had  so  far 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  289 

hoarded  the  bonds  received  from  Ovsrton — in  cautious 
fear — lest  a  single  number  should  be  recognized.  It 
would  be  fatal.  Riley  had  urged  sending  them  West,  or 
to  Europe.  The  sly  Spaniard  dissented. 

"  1  take  a  da  bond  and  put  in  a  da  bank.  I  get  the 
great  loan.  By  an'  by,  we  sell  him." 

So  Riley  was  fain  to  possess  his  unsold  bonds  in  quiet. 
He  never  risked  himself.  "  I've  too  much  to  lose.  A 
man  in  me  position  !  "  he  proudly  ruminated.  "  An'  I'll 
watch  old  Jose.  He's  the  divil's  own  for  combinin'  and 
manipulatin'.  " 

Wise,  with  a  glance  of  his  eager  eye,  took  in  the  nautical 
ornaments  of  Jose's  office.  "  Sly  old  devil,"  he  mur 
mured.  "  Not  to  be  caught  napping.  I  must  try  the 
bluff  game." 

He  gravely  accepted  the  liquid  refreshments  gravely 
offered  by  the  hospitable  Spaniard,  and  even  lit  one  of 
the  Excepcionales. 

"  What  can  I  a  do  for  you,  Sefior  ?  "  said  the  wily  Jose, 
in  his  silkiest  voice.  He  well  knew  the  potency  of  Seth 
\Vise  in  the  financial  market. 

*'  I  called  to  see  you,  Sefior,"  Wise  calmly  said,  "  with 
regard  to  a  deposit  made  with  you  by  my  esteemed 
friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Overton,  before  his  untimely  death." 
Wise  waved  his  hand  in  solemn  salute  to  the  manes  of  the 
departed  Overton. 

'•What  was  this  a  deposit,  Sefior?"  Jose  warily  an 
swered,  fencing  for  time,  and  sizing  up  his  man. 

"  It  was  a  certain  amount  of  United  States  bonds  and 
a  large  amount  of  currency,"  Wise  remarked,  with  a 
warning  glance  to  Maxwell. 

.  Jose  Oliviera's  dark  eyes  burned  in  yellow  flame.  "  I 
know  nothing  of  the  a  matter  you  speak  of,  sir,"  losing 
his  temper.  "  You  can  a  talk  a  to  my  lawyer.  I  see  you 
to-morrow."  He  rose  with  hauteur. 

"All  right  !  "  said  Wise,  rising.     "  Don  Jose,  I  only  wish 
19 


290  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

you  to  remember  that  I  have  seen  the  Inspector  in  regard 
to  this  little  matter.  He  has  a  list  of  all  the  bonds  missing, 
and  a  general  description  of  the  currency.  Now,  it  would 
be  awkward  if  any  of  these  numbered  bonds  would  be  sold 
or  negotiated  by  well-known  men  like  you — or  I,"  Wise 
considerately  said.  "  I  have  a  duplicate  list.  I  can 
leave  you  a  copy.  All  the  banks  and  the  Clearing  House 
have  it  now.  If  I  find  any  man  selling  one  of  those 
bonds,  or  putting  them  up  as  collateral  — 

Jose  started  in  nervous  dread.  "Well,  well  a,"  he 
wolfishly  said. 

"  He'll  get  twenty  years  in  Sing  Sing,"  curtly  said 
Seth  Wise.  "  By  the  way,"  Wise  remarked  harshly,  as 
he  rose  to  leave,  "you  had  better  have  your  friend 
Riley  of  that  South  Front  hotel  here  to-morrow." 

"  What  a  for?  "  Jose  hissed. 

"  Because  he  has  got  some  of  them,  and  you,  Senor, 
have  got  the  rest,"  Wise  calmly  replied. 

The  Spaniard  sprang  at  him  like  a  tiger. 

"  Drop  that  knife,"  yelled  Maxwell,  as  he  quickly 
shoved  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  into  Don  Jose's  swarthy 
face. 

Don  Jose  fell  into  a  chair. 

"Look  here,  you  d d  thieving  Spanish  scoundrel," 

yelled  Wise,  returning,  "  I  know  about  all  your  boats — 
and  your  smuggling — your  devilish  plots.  You  can 
sleep  over  this.  I'll  drive  you  out  of  this  town.  You 
have  got  American  registers  for  five  vessels  sailing  from 
here.  I'll  have  them  all  caught  up  by  the  revenue 
cutters.  I'll  ruin  you,  you  dirty  Spanish  dog,"  he  cried. 
"  I'll  tell  you  something  to-morrow  that  will  make  you 
jump,  you  jail-bird,"  said  Seth,  as,  with  the  Anglo-Saxon 
scorn  of  a  knife,  he  stumped  down  the  stair. 

Maxwell,  closing  the  door,  saw  Don  Jose  drop  in  his 
seat,  wild  with  rage.  • 

"  Pon't   mention   a  wojd   of  this  to  Burnham,"  Wise 


DELILAH    OF     HARLEM.  29! 

blurted  out,  as  they  rolled  along  up-town.  "  We  will 
get  these  two  devils  frightened.  Boy,  you  came  in  just 
right,"  he  gratefully  said,  as  he  thought  of  Jose  Oliviera's 
knife. 

"  Never  mind,  we  will  get  them  cornered  yet,"  Maxwell 
answered. 

In  Riley's  hostelry,  the  two  conspirators  talked  till  the 
stars  went  low  into  the  western  sea.  For  Jose  Oliviera— 
his  yellow  cheeks  burning  in  a  jaundiced  rage — hastened 
to  the  wily  old  Boniface  of  South  Front. 

"  Jose,  my  old  amigo,"  said  the  Irishman,  when  he 
had  weighed  the  Spaniard's  recital,  "  I  don't  believe  you 
have  yer  usual  nerve  now.  An'  you  made  an  awful  mis 
take  to  go  an'  lose  yer  temper.  I  know  well  this  ould 
veteran  money  shark  Wise.  There's  a  somethin'  lackin' 
in  his  game." 

"  Why  you  say  so  ?  "  Jose  answered — nervously  biting 
his  cigar. 

"  Because,  me  old  frind,"  Riley  replied,  "  if  he  was 
not  afraid  to  miss  the  game,  we'd  'a'  had  the  police  down 
on  us  ere  this.  Did  you  look  over  the  lists  of  the 
bonds  ? " 

"  I  did  not  see  him.  He  say  he  have  him,"  the  Span 
iard  answered. 

Riley  pulled  at  his  glass  of  whiskey  punch.  "  He's  a 
queer  old  chap,  this  Wise,  an'  a  foxy  one.  It  may  be  he 
don't  want  a  big  stir  about  this.  He  may  not  care  to 
give  up  a  big  reward — and  pay  the  police  (bad  luck 
to  them  !)  a  good  share.  Ye  can  see  he  don't  care  to 
punish  us.  The  ould  wretch  only  wants  the  good  stuff 
back.  Now,  I  believe  he  thinks  we've  got  it — you  an'  I  ; 
but  he's  not  got  the  sure  proof  yet.  I  wouldn't  be  so 
much  afeared  to  face  him.  I'll  be  with  you  to-morrow. 
We  may  put  him  off — or  bluff  him  down.  We'll  have 
the  lawyer.  An'  what  time  do  you  meet  him,  here  ? " 

"  I  see  a  him  eleven  o'clock,"  Jose  sadly  said.     "  You 


292  DEMLAH    OF    HARLEM. 

see,  if  we  a  fight  him,  we  break  up  da  shipping  business 
ver'  bad.  Two  or  tree  years  all  lost  !  We  must  make  a 
new  plans.  An'  all  dese  devils  down  below  " — (he 
vaguely  indicated  the  Spanish  main) — "now  make 
plenty  of  trouble  for  us." 

Riley,  with  bowed  head,  admitted  this  mournful  truth. 
He  saw,  at  a  glimpse,  how  much  more  Jose  Oliviera — 
shipping  merchant  and  man  of  mark — had  to  lose  than  a 
mere  water-front  publican. 

"  It's  little  character  I  have  to  risk,  anyway,"  he 
grimly  reflected.  "Jose  is  in  this  much  deeper.  But 
we'll  fight  them  off.  We'll  fight  them  devilish  hard." 

"  Be  sure  and  have  the  lawyer  with  you  at  ten.  We'll 
both  be  fresher  then,  Jose,"  said  the  bothered  Riley,  as 
they  cautiously  separated.  "  An'  ye'll  be  holdin'  on  to 
your  temper,  when  we  get  at  this  business.  It's  no  use  to 
make  a  racket  here,"  Riley  sighed,  as  he  said  good-night. 

"  Maxwell,"  said  Wise,  pondering  as  they  rolled  along 
up-town,  "  we  have  these  people  a  little  frightened.  We 
may  find  them,  though,  very  ugly  customers.  I  feel  cer 
tain  that  to-morrow  will  develop  their  whole  game.  I 
need  your  advice,  my  boy.  They  probably  have  some 
depraved  and  tricky  lawyer  aiding  them  in  covering 
their  tracks.  Now,  if  we  are  forced  to  absolute  fighting, 
we  can,  perhaps,  not  pin  these  fellows  down.  If  I  go 
after  them  criminally,  they  may  get  desperate,  and  con 
ceal  this  plunder  for  years.  It  would  be  a  serious  thing 
to  put  the  screws  on,  and  have  them  then  slip  through 
our  fingers,  after  all.  Think  the  whole  situation  over. 
We  must  break  their  lines."  The  old  man  was  tired  and 
haggard. 

"Uncle  Seth,  take  a  rest.  I'll  burn  the  lamp  of  reason 
on  this.  I  think  I  see  a  shadow  of  a  clew,"  the  younger 
man  cheerily  said,  as  the  wearied  capitalist  grumbled  into 
his  house. 

Maxwell  turned   over  in  his  mind  the  whole  strange 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  293 

story  when  alone.  "These  two  devils,"  he  mused,  "wilt 
be  ready  for  an  ultimatum  to-morrow.  They  may  not 
see  all  the  weak  points  of  our  lines.  We  may  find  them 
a  little  shaky." 

Alas  !  for  Walter  Maxwell's  hopes.  Early  morning 
saw  Jose  Oliviera  at  the  breakfast  table  of  his  chosen 
counsellor.  Many  a  dark  secret  of  the  Spaniard's  tan 
gled  schemes  was  shared  by  cool,  wily  John  O'Hara. 

O'Hara — the  needed  advocate  and  guide  of  many  des 
perate  operators — was  a  waxen-faced,  gray-eyed,  middle- 
aged  Irish  lawyer,  whose  acuteness  was  at  the  service  of 
the  scheming  clients  working,  under  the  very  eyes  of  jus 
tice,  safely  in  New  York. 

"  Ah  !  in  trouble  again,  Don  Jose  ? "  he  suavely  re 
marked.  "  Just  wait  till  I  finish  my  coffee." 

O'Hara  scented  a  fat  fee.  His  "professional  ear" 
was  soon  at  the  service  of  the  frightened  Spaniard.  A 
retired  nook  in  O'Hara's  modest  home — where  "  walls 
without  ears  "  were  available— served  for  Jose's  semi- 
confession. 

"  Do  you  get  down  now  to  your  office.  Have  Riley 
there.  I'll  think  this  over.  I'll  be  after  you  in  half  an 
hour.  Thank  you,  Don  Jose,"  smiled  O'Hara,  as  he 
carelessly  pocketed  a  handsome  check.  "  I'll  give  them 
a  chance  to  make  out  several  more  yet,"  chuckled 
O'Hara,  as  he  watched  the  departing  man.  "  Desperate 
devils  they  are  !  " 

While  Wise  and  Maxwell  were  nearing  the  meeting- 
place,  the  cool,  unshaken  advocate  digested  Riley's  story 
and  his  views,  for  the  garrison  was  now  in  arms. 

Riley  was  perturbed  and  voluble  beyond  his  wont. 
Jose  Oliviera — with  an  anxious  eye  cast  mentally  over 
the  wide-spread  network  of  his  illicit  trade — realized  that 
personal  ruin  would  befall  him,  if  driven  from  the 
friendly  shelter  of  New  York.  The  Stars  and  Stripes 
protected  his  concealed  scoundrelism. 


294  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

The  Irish  landlord's  indignation  was  intense — the  very 
thought  of  giving  up  the  easily  won  hoard  was  a  sacrilege 
against  his  "  business  code." 

"  Let  me  do  all  the  talking  for  you/'  the  lawyer  said. 
"  Keep  your  tempers,  gentlemen.  Don't  answer  any 
questions,  unless  I  direct  you.  Take  your  time  with 
these  men.  Of  course,  if  they  bring  a  lawyer  with  them, 
he  and  I  must  fight  it  out." 

With  grave  composure,  Seth  Wise  and  Maxwell  seated 
themselves  in  Don  Jose's  den.  The  moderate  manner 
of  O'Hara  was  only  belied  by  his  cool,  steady,  unyielding 
gray  eye. 

"  Mr.  Wise,"  said  O'Hara,  "  I  represent  these  gentle 
men  in  my  professional  capacity." 

Seth  bowed. 

"  I  understand  you  claim  that  they,  or  either  of  them, 
are  the  holders  of  some  valuable  property  which  you 
claim  as  your  own." 

"  I  do,"  Seth  replied. 

"  I  have  heard  my  clients'  reports.  I  would  now  like 
you  to  state  your  case,  as  far  as  you  wish,"  O'Hara 
blandly  continued. 

In  five  minutes,  Seth  Wise,  his  eye  keenly  fixed  on  the 
two  conspirators,  finished  his  repeated  demands  for  the 
bonds  and  currency.  Maxwell's  warning  eyes  followed 
his  every  remark.  O'Hara  was  cheerfully  attentive  until 
the  old  banker  ceased.  Oliviera  and  Riley  were  studying 
their  cigars  in  silence,  and  watching  Maxwell  askance. 

With  courteous  inquiry,  O'Hara  gazed  at  Maxwell. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  say  at  present,"  the  younger  man 
said. 

O'Hara  mused  a  few  moments,  as  if  digesting  Seth's 
story.  He  fixed  his  clear  gaze  frankly  on  the  visitors,  as 
if  to  read  some  new  features  of  a — to  him — astounding 
tale. 

"  I  fear,  Mr.  Wise,"  he  said  in  a  professional  but  easy 


DELILAH    OF    HAKI.EM.  295 

monotone,  "  that  you  are  the  victim  of  some  very 
grave  error,  or  a  strange  delusion.  Mr.  Oliviera  is  a 
man  of  whose  standing  you  must  know,  in  your  high 
financial  station.  Unless  you  have  absolute  proofs  of 
the  deposit  you  claim  to  have  been  made — unless  you 
can  show  me  a  clear  tracing  of  the  property  said  to  be 
missing  to  my  clients,  I  shall  content  myself  with  merely 
saying  that  no  such  property  is  or  has  been  in  our  pos 
session.  You  will  have  to  look  elsewhere,"  the  lawyer 
said,  with  a  slight  emphasis.  "  You  have  your  own  at 
torneys — you  have  criminal  recourse,  or  a  civil  remedy, 
if  you  have  the  slightest  proofs."  O'Hara  paused,  with 
almost  a  sneer  in  his  cold  voice.  "  I  regret  the  trouble 
of  last  night,  but  you  must  be  aware  of  your  responsi 
bility  in  making  such  charges.  I  do  not  venture  to  advise, 
but  to  suggest,  that  we  are  responsible  parties,  and  we 
may  force  you  to  show  us  your  alleged  lists  and  so-called 
proofs.  In  other  words,  sir,  my  clients  distinctly  decline 
to  go  further  in  this  business,  save  under  my  professional 
guidance.  You  must  bring  us  into  court,  where  you  are 
responsible." 

Wise  firmly  gazed  at  Jose  and  the  joyous  Riley,  and 
then  slowly  rose.  Maxwell  was  already  on  his  feet. 

"  Will  you  give  me  the  name  of  your  lawyer  ?  "  said 
O'Hara,  as  he  fumbled  at  his  watch,  "  My  time  is  very 
precious."  There  was  an  ill-disguised  air  of  triumph  on 
the  smooth  scoundrel's  face. 

"  You'll  hear  from  me  in  due  time,  sir,"  Wise  stiffly 
remarked,  as  he  strode  to  the  door. 

"  I  would  ask  you,  then,  sir,"  said  O'Hara,  handing  him 
his  professional  card,  "  to  see  me  alone,  on  this  matter, 
for  the  present." 

With  a  mighty  effort,  Wise — baffled  but  always  self- 
contained — descended  the  stair  in  peace.  Maxwell,  his 
eyes  burning  with  rage  at  the  lawyer's  cool  insolence, 
strode  along  in  silence. 


296  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Let  us  go  over  now  to  the  Astor  House  and  get  a 
private  room.  We  can  talk  this  over,  there,"  said  Seth. 
He  was  raging. 

When  securely  shut  off  from  the  world,  Wise  gave  vent 
to  some  vigorous  and  not  choicely  selected  denunciations 
of  the  two  conspirators  and  their  smug  adviser. 

"  Uncle  Seth,  listen  to  me,"  said  Maxwell.  "  These 
people  are  taking  just  the  course  we  naturally  might  have 
looked  for.  I  have  turned  the  whole  tangle  over  all  last 
night.  They  are  afraid  you  will  push  matters  as  far 
as  you  can.  You  can  give  no  legal  guarantee  to  them  of 
future  quiet.  They  don't  care  to  trust  you,  or  any  one. 
There  is  but  one  help,  one  safety  for  us,  one  only  means 
to  victory." 

"  You  mean  ?  "  Seth  began. 

"  I  mean  that  the  wicked  woman  who  bereft  Claire 
Morton  of  her  fortune  must  save  it  for  her  now — if  it  is 
saved." 

"  Marie  Ashton  !  "  Seth  cried. 

"  Precisely,"  Maxwell  affirmed. 

"  And  how  ?  "  queried  the  old  man. 

"  She  is  the  only  witness  who  can  trace  the  stolen  bonds 
and  cash  actually  into  the  hands  of  those  two  desperate 
thieves." 

"  We  must  get  her  evidence,"  Seth  quickly  said.  **  But 
how  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  It  would  be  ruin  to  her  new  life  to  publish  the  whole 
facts,  and  she  would  never  consent  to  that,"  Maxwell 
sadly  said. 

"  Then  we  are  powerless,"  mournfully  cried  the  old  man. 

"  By  no  means,"  Maxwell  retorted.  "  She  has  now 
rich  John  Martin's  peace  of  mind  to  guard — her  own 
dark  past  to  hide — her  own  uncertain  future  to  insure. 
She  must  come  here.  She  must  be  gently  induced  to 
come.  Then,  we  can  shatter  the  bulwarks  that  this  lawyer 
O'Hara  will  build  up." 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 


297 


"  How  can  we  induce  her  ?  I  am  all  at  sea,"  Seth 
rejoined. 

"  I  am  positive  that  Overton  was  smart  enough  to  have 
her  see  this  division.  She  must  really  have  been  quietly 
smuggled  on  the  boat  the  day  before  the  robbery.  They 
would  not  risk  a  division  of  forces  on  the  eve  of  the 
attempt.  The  lists  of  the  stolen  bonds  were  made  out 
on  the  schooner  after  division  of  the  plunder.  She  has 
held  the  original  bonds.  They  are  the  greatest  part  of 
the  steal.  We  must  now  have  these  two  men  quietly 
watched.  Let  us  leave  them  alone  a  little.  Every  day 
increases  their  fancied  security.  Both  of  these  scoun 
drels  have  too  much  local  wealth  to  abandon  at  a  mere 
threat.  If  you  can  write  a  letter  which  will  touch  Marie 
Ashton's  heart,  then  we  are  the  victors.  Strange  woman 
as  she  is,  she  will  try  to  protect  her  old  husband,  at  any 
trouble  to  herself — even  at  the  greatest  personal  risk,  if 
it  does  not  touch  him.  She  can  prove  the  crime  of 
betraying  and  abandoning  Abel  Cram.  He,  poor  lunatic, 
will  never  be  able  to  speak  for  himself." 

"  Maxwell,  you  are  right,"  Seth  slowly  said.  "  Both 
Overton  and  Morton  lost  their  lives  through  Marie  Ash- 
ton's  fatal  beauty.  Will  she  aid  us  now  ?  How  can  we 
properly  guard  her— if  she  comes  ?  " 

Maxwell,  with  a  great  triumph  in  his  eyes,  said  :  "  She 
is  absolutely  innocent  of  the  actual  robbery.  Now,  if 
John  Martin  were  to  hear,  in  a  regular  communication, 
that  some  property  interests  of  her  own  needed  her 
attention  here,  he  would  send  her  over  at  once.  He  is  an 
old  man — he  won't  fancy  useless  travel — she  will  under 
stand.  Her  presence  for  a  week  here  would  close  up  all. 
The  Inspector  could  answer  for  her  peace  and  safety. 
Jose  and  Riley  know  nothing  of  her  real  past  life.  You 
have  never  lied  to  her,"  said  Maxwell,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Cable  her  to-day  to  the  secret  address.  Write  her 
personally,  in  full,  to  the  same.  Give  her  your  word  of 


298  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

honor,  and  forward  the  bank  letter  about  the  supposed 
business  in  the  regular  mail.  She  is  smart  enough  to 
come  alone.  Even  if  he  should  come  over,  you  can 
pretend  to  close  up  some  fanciful  matters  to  her  benefit. 
We  must  not  leave  the  city  for  an  instant.  The  thieves 
will  watch  us  all  now." 

"  I'll  try  it.  I  owe  it  to  the  memory  of  poor  bedevilled 
Morton  to  try  and  get  back  the  fatal  money  which  was 
to  be  his  wife's  fortune.  But  we  can't  punish  these 
devils  as  we  should,"  Seth  fiercely  said. 

"  Not  unless  we  rake  up  Marie  Ashton's  smirched 
past,  and  all  her  wild  adventures,"  Maxwell  rejoined. 

The  steamer  next  day  bore  away  the  letters,  over  which 
Seth  Wise  toiled  till  the  midnight  bells  clanged  solemnly. 
The  return  cable,  in  acknowledgment  of  his  careful 
despatch,  cheered  him. 

For  ten  days,  Wise  and  Maxwell  fretted  and  fumed 
in  their  daily  life,  the  old  man's  only  delight  being  to 
con  over  the  daily  reports  from  his  detectives.  The 
birds  had  not  flown.  A  shade  of  growing  care  was  re 
ported  as  hovering  over  the  two  self-protected  thieves. 

For  it  was  indeed  true  that  Lawyer  O'Hara,  with 
grave  face,  counselled  watchfulness  to  the  partners  in 
crime. 

"  That  old  man  Wise  is  no  fool.  You'll  hear  from  him 
again.  You  will  need  me  yet,  Don  Jose,"  the  lawyer 
grimly  said.  "And  I  can't  make  out  his  little  game." 

There  was  joy  in  the  heart  of  the  rugged  old  banker, 
when  a  cablegram  told  him  that  the  fair  Witch  of  Har 
lem  was  on  her  way  to  the  metropolitan  theatre  of  her 
dazzling  social  triumphs.  The  little  fateful  cablegram 
was  a  talisman  to  anxious  Walter  Maxwell.  Its  brief 
words  were : 

Coming — alone — La  Bretagne. 

Wise  vowed  in  his  heart  of  hearts  to  shield  and  pro- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 


299 


tect  the  beautiful  and  erring  woman  who  trusted  in  the 
honor  of  one  old  man  to  save  the  peace  and  guard  the 
good  name  of  another. 

"  She  cannot  be  altogether  bad — not  wholly  vile," 
thought  Seth  of  the  woman  the  waves  were  bearing 
swiftly  to  him. 

From  an  obscure  childhood,  to  womanhood's  royal 
prime — the  very  sport  of  destiny,  the  hunted  quarry  of 
man — lonely  Marie  Ashton  had  fought  her  way,  single- 
handed,  up  to  the  command  of  the  luxuries  dear  to  Eve's 
modern  daughters. 

Sinned  against,  and  deeply  sinning,  her  soiled  record 
was  no  darker  than  the  life-histories  of  many  of  her 
more  fortunate  sisters,  who  live  foul  lives  while  sheltered 
behind  the  tinselled  bulwarks  of  a  sham  respectability. 

While  the  good  ship  La  Bretagne  swept  on  through 
storm  and  sunshine,  bringing  Marie  Martin  to  undo  the 
work  of  Marie  Ashton,  Seth  Wise,  watching  day  and 
night  over  the  two  defiant  thieves,  communed  often  with 
his  legal  adviser. 

The  gray-headed  lawyer — perched  in  his  lofty  eyrie 
under  the  shadows  of  Trinity  steeple — listened  unmoved 
to  Seth fs  recital. 

Judge  Lawton,  under  bushy  eyebrows,  smiled  now  and 
then,  his  inscrutable  face  breaking  into  a  momentary 
recognition  of  the  usual  recurring  "  Wall  Street  mystery." 
The  same  wild,  wolfish  greed — the  same  tangle  of  lust, 
play,  passion,  fraud,  wine,  women,  cards,  speculation,  and 
damnable  intrigue  ! 

The  seething  flood  of  life  bears  along  ever,  in  New 
York,  these  floating  human  wrecks,  and  all  around 
ghastly  reminders  of  great  social  disasters  peer  above  its 
turbid  stream.  The  great  city's  maelstrom  draws  into  its 
deadly  whirl  rash  youth,  callow  girlhood,  reckless  man 
hood,  sly  age,  and  even  the  gilded  "butterflies  of  fashion." 

Untold  horrors  are  whispered  on  the  breezes  sweeping 


300  DELILAH    OF    HART, EM. 

over  reef  and  shallow,  where  luring  witches,  pirate  life- 
wreckers,  and  sleek,  unpunished  scoundrels  prey  contin 
ually  on  the  helpless  victims  swept  along  in  speculation's 
tide. 

Police  officials,  lawyers,  priests,  smug  doctors,  all 
these  professional  attendants  on  the  great  human  play- 
behind  the  scenes — oil  the  easy-working  machinery  of 
this  shifting  stage.  They  dragoon  the  motley  crowd  of 
players  into  quiet,  and  sneer  at  the  idle  spectators 
winking  ignorantly  at  the  blinding  glories  of  metropol 
itan  life. 

Lawton  quietly  imparted  his  formulated  wisdom  to  his 
client.  "  My  dear  friend,  the  '  unseen  and  unheard  '  is 
the  darkest  part  of  New  York  life.  I  have  learned  to 
doubt  no  tale  of  crime,  fraud,  or  misery.  I  have  come 
to  be  surprised  at  nothing.  In  the  silent  shadows  which 
fall  over  the  millionnaire's  palace,  as  well  as  the  tramp's 
den,  in  the  blackness  of  the  night  wrapping  in  slumber 
money  prince  and  starving  beggar,  the  real  mystery  of 
New  York  life  lurks.  Its  awful  secrets  are  guarded  only 
by  fear  or  self-interest.  Here,  in  your  own  case,  we 
must  quietly  face  these  people,  and  crush  them  yet  with 
invincible  proof.  When  your  mysterious  woman  ally 
arrives,  see  me  at  once.  I  will  then  see  the  Inspector. 
You  must  not  leave  here.  Your  visitor  must  not  be 
unguarded  a  single  moment.  I  can  handle  these  rogues 
if  your  witness  stands  firm.  I  must  know  her  whole 
story,  in  its  full  detail,  the  first  moment  she  arrives.  By 
night  or  day,  let  me  know  at  once.  I  will  have  discreet 
detectives  on  duty  to  watch  over  your  visitor.  She  must 
then  leave  for  Europe  the  moment  we  are  finished.  A 
quiet  guardian  must  go  with  her,  until  the  moment  of 
her  actual  return  to  her  Parisian  home." 

Three  days  later,  as  the  Bretagne  swept  up  to  the  Quar 
antine  Station,  a  grave-faced,  elderly  man  mounted  the 
ship's  ladder  with  the  doctor.  Seth  Wise  had  his  invisible 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  30! 

network  already  spread  around  his  enemies.  Maxwell, 
on  the  watch  at  the  dock,  waited,  with  discreet  messen 
gers,  ready  to  communicate  with  lawyer,  police,  or  to 
attack  the  enemy. 

Crowded  with  passengers,  the  saloon  decks  were  filled 
by  a  happy  returning  throng — here  and  there  accentuated 
by  wide-eyed  idle  tourists. 

Even  in  this  motley  maze,  the  dazzling  beauty  and 
matchless  charms  of  the  lovely  intrigante  distinguished 
the  fair  Witch  of  Harlem. 

Seth  approached  gravely.  She  smiled,  and  her  stead 
fast  eyes  told  him  all  was  well.  Up  the  lovely  bay  the 
great  boat  swept,  to  safely  land  Marie  Martin  again  on 
her  native  shore. 

In  the  hours  before  the  last  battle,  Seth  Wise's  man 
sion  was  the  cage  of  this  beautiful  bird  of  passage. 
Judge  Lawton,  Wise,  and  the  lady  were  seated  for  hours 
at  a  table,  covered  with  all  the  papers  in  the  case.  A 
discreet  detective  guarded  the  house,  under  Lawton's 
stringent  orders. 

Calmly  answering  every  query,  with  perfect  frankness 
Marie  Martin  gave  the  minutest  details  of  the  eventful 
Thanksgiving  Eve  to  the  stern  old  lawyer. 

Lawton  broke  off  finally  :  "  Madam,"  said  he,  his  eyes 
twinkling  in  undisguised  admiration,  "  I  thank  you.  We 
shall  soon  release  you  for  your  return  voyage.  I  hope  it 
will  be  at  once.  To-morrow,  at  ten  o'clock,  I  shall  ask 
Mr.  Wise  to  bring  you  down  to  my  law  office.  You  may 
as  well  have  every  paper  and  document  ready.  Pray 
rest  yourself  now,  and  be  assured  we  will  return  you 
speedily  to  your  home.  Now,  Mr.  Wise,  let  us  go  !  I 
want  you  with  me." 

"  Where  to  ?  "  queried  Seth. 

The  old  advocate  stood,  hat  in  hand.  "  To  Mulberry 
Street.  I  want  to  swear  out  some  warrants,"  said  Law- 
ton,  rubbing  his  hands.  It  was  a  nice  case. 


302  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Seth's  face  brightened.  As  they  departed,  Judge  Law- 
ton  turned  back.  With  courtly  politeness,  the  old  law 
yer  said  :  "  Pardon  me,  madam.  When  you  come  down 
to-morrow,  pray  come  heavily  veiled.  I  do  not  wish  you 
— if  you  can  so  far  deny  yourself — to  leave  this  house,  or 
show  your  face  at  the  windows,  until  this  affair  is  over. 
After  that — you  are  afe." 

Marie  smiled.     '  is  it  so  necessary?  "  she  archly  said. 

"  Certainly.  I  would  remember  your  face  for  a  lifetime, 
madam  ;  others,  and  younger  men,  are  no  more  dull 
than  I,"  said  the  man  of  law,  with  a  low  bow. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A  MORNING  SURPRISE.  JUDGE  LAWTON's  ULTIMATUM. 
THE  VEILED  WITNESS.  CLAIRE  MORTON'S  FORTUNE. 
THE  WITCH  UNDOES  HER  WORK.  WEDDING  BELLS. 
AT  THE  LEGATION  BALL.  HOME  AGAIN  ! 

JUDGE  LAWTON'S  home  library  was  a  pleasant  resting- 
place  from  his  labors  in  the  down-town  den.  Stretched 
on  a  Spanish-leather  sofa,  the  veteran  lawyer  mused  over 
a  cigar  on  his  return  from  Mulberry  Street,  after 
punctiliously  disposing  of  a  careful  dinner — a  daily  social 
rite.  Ranged  around  him,  his  serried  shelves  of  books 
were  the  stores  of  his  intellectual  armory.  Judicious 
curtaining  shut  off  the  disturbing  noises  of  his  family 
household.  Near  him,  this  night,  sat  his  coolest,  trusti 
est  aide — Harry  Winthrop — an  aspiring  young  limb  of 
the  law.  The  old  judge  mused  over  the  campaign  of 
the  morning.  "  You  have  attended  to  all  my  orders, 
Winthrop  ?  "  the  senior  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  the  aide  replied.  "  The  men  will  be  on 
watch.  I'll  have  the  three  parties  you  wish  there.  The 
papers  and  warrants  are  all  ready." 


DELILAH  OF  HARLEM.  303 

"  Very  good  !  And,  as  to  the  crazy  man  from  the 
asylum  ? " 

"  He  will  be  on  time,"  was  the  quiet  response. 

"  Keep  them  all  in  separate  anterooms.  Permit  no 
wandering  around,"  the  old  man  continued. 

"  I  understand,  sir,"  the  bright  junior  replied. 

"  How  did  this  O'Hara  take  my  message  ?  "  Judge 
Lawton  queried. 

"  Quite  easily,  sir.  He  seemed  glad  to  think  he  had 
you  to  deal  with,"  Winthrop  answered. 

"  All  right,  then.  I'll  now  take  a  good  night's  rest. 
I  depend  on  you  for  all  these  things,  Harry,"  the  great 
jurist  said,  almost  affectionately. 

The  junior  disappeared,  with  a  friendly  "  Good-night !  " 

"  There's  war  in  the  governor's  eye,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  as  he  descended  the  steps.  "  He  always  looks  that 
way  before  one  of  his  'close  action  '  battles." 

"  Glad  to  deal  with  me,  Mr.  O'Hara  !  Well !  we  are  both 
pleased,"  murmured  the  nodding  old  judge  as  he  dozed 
away,  in  light  dreams,  haunted  by  the  smiles  of  the 
banker's  lovely  mysterious  ally. 

Nine  o'clock  next  day  found  Judge  Lawton,  freshly 
shaven,  calmly  roving  over  the  columns  of  the  "  Herald  " 
in  his  sanctum — while  at  his  great  council-table  the  papers 
in  the  case  were  spread  out — in  his  down-town  office.  His 
alert  mind  was  full  of  the  subject  of  the  coming  inter 
view.  Harry  Winthrop,  entering,  announced  :  "  Mr. 
O'Hara,  and  friends," 

"  Show  them  in,"  cheerfully  answered  Judge  Lawton. 
"  Here,  take  these  two  envelopes,"  handing  him  a  large 
and  small  one.  "  When  the  police  officers  come,  bring 
in  the  small  one.  When  Mr.  Wise  and  his  friend  are 
here— come  in  with  the  other.  Have  you  the  other 
people  here  ? " 

"All  here,  sir,"  was  the  answer  of  the  junior. 

"  How's  this  man  Cram  to-day  ?  "  questioned  Lawton. 


304  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  Quiet  enough.  But  he  babbles  foolishly  about 
'horses'  and  'races,'  and  he  needs  a  little  judicious 
handling,"  the  young  man  reported. 

"Very  good — go  ahead!"  Judge  Lawton  took  up 
his  daily  paper,  with  an  air  of  indifference.  He  adored 
tranquillity. 

O'Hara,  followed  by  Jose  Oliviera  and  Riley,  marched 
in,  a  grave  procession. 

The  two  lynx-like  advocates  eyed  each  other.  They 
seated  themselves  after  brief  salutation,  and  presenta 
tion  to  Lawton  of  the  two  clients. 

"  Gentlemen,  Mr.  O'Hara  and  I  will  have  a  few  words 
in  private,  if  you  please,"  Lawton  pleasantly  remarked. 

Strolling  to  a  window  the  two  lawyers  conversed  in  a 
low  tone  for  a  few  minutes.  Jose's  glittering  eyes  were 
glued  on  the  cautiously  fencing  attorneys.  Riley  noted 
with  glee  Lawton's  almost  persuasive  manner.  He  was 
encouraged  by  the  firm  nodding  of  O'Hara  ^  head,  in  a 
seeming  stubborn  negation. 

"Ah!  he's  the  boy  to  stand  them  off,"  proudly  thought 
the  Boniface,  as  the  two  attorneys  briskly  returned  to 
the  table.  With  a  light  tap  on  the  door,  Harry  Winthrop 
entered,  handing  two  envelopes  to  Judge  Lawton. 

"  Ah,  very  good  !  "  said  the  unmoved  advocate. 
"  Show  Mr.  Wise  in." 

The  two  conspirators  started.  It  was,  then,  to  be  an 
other  locking  of  horns.  This  was  the  day  of  battle. 

Seth  Wise  gravely  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  his 
lawyer.  He  did  not  even  recognize  the  enemy. 

"  Gentlemen,"  began  Judge  Lawton,  "  we  are  here  on 
a  very  unpleasant  business.  I  presume  Mr.  O'Hara  rep 
resents  you  fully  ? "  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  his  two 
visitors. 

Jose  bowed.  Riley  confidently  said  :  "  Yes,  sir  ;  he 
does." 

"  I  have  no  need  to  go  over  the  nature  of  the  demand 

\ 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  305 

made  by  my  client,  Mr.  Wise,  on  you.  This  demand 
may  have  been  made  in  a  form  perhaps  offensive  to  you  ; 
but  I  wish  to  ask  you,  before  further  proceeding,  if  you 
have  not  yet  discovered  any  property  or  deposits  left 
vvith  you  by  Mr.  Thomas  Overton.  They  naturally 
could  have  a  property  interest  for  us." 

The  two  thieves  gazed  mutely  on  their  lawyer. 

"Not  a  thing,  sir — not  a  cent's  worth,"  stoutly  said 
the  brassy  O'Hara. 

Lawton  turned  gently  to  the  mute  clients.  They 
nodded. 

O'Hara's  face  flushed.  Bluff  was  his  game  now. 
"  Judge  Lawton,"  he  said,  "I  have  brought  these  gen 
tlemen  here  to  hear  some  explanation  of  the  two  visits, 
offensively  made  to  them,  by  your  client  Mr.  Wise,  and 
his  friend,  or  clerk.  There  is  yet  some  law  in  New  York. 
I  propose  that  my  clients  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it." 

Lawton  wheeled  quickly.  His  voice  had  a  steely  ring 
in  it.  "  They  ought  to  have  the  benefit  of  it.  Before 
they  have  the  full  advantages  of  our  justice,  I  wish  to  see 
if  I  cannot  assist  their  memories  a  little." 

O'Hara  was  startled  at  the  change  in  Lawton's  manner. 
"  I  will  not  expose  my  clients  to  any  trap  or  cross-ques 
tioning  here,"  he  angrily  said. 

"  Very  good  !  "  cried  Lawton,  with  a  quick  glance  at 
Seth  Wise,  and  a  smart  clang  of  his  bell. 

"  Winthrop,"  he  said  sharply,  "  bring  me  in  those 
warrants,  and  ask  the  Captain  to  step  here  for  a  moment. " 

"Hold!"  cried  O'Hara.  "One  word!"  His  quick 
eye  had  noted  the  ghastly  pallor  on  Jose  Oliviera's  face 
and  the  blank  amazement  of  Riley,  whose  square  jaw 
dropped  visibly. 

"Well,  sir,"  sharply  said  Lawton. 

O'Hara  snapped  out  :  "  Explain  this  to  me  before  you 
take  any  further  step.  I  claim  the  right  as  an  attorney 
to  friendly  treatment  at  your  hands." 


306  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  You  shall  have  it,  sir,"  pleasantly  replied  Lawton. 
"Winthrop,  never  mind  the  warrants.  Bring  in  those 
people." 

O'Hara  and  his  two  clients  were  busily  whispering  as 
the  door  opened,  and  three  rough-looking  men,  followed 
by  a  police  officer,  entered. 

Winthrop  stood  waiting  in  the  door.  His  eyes  were 
sparkling.  Jose  Oliviera  and  Riley  sprang  to  their  feet- 

"  Not  a  word  !  "  thundered  Lawton.  "  Silence,  every 
body  !  "  He  made  a  sign  to  Winthrop,  and  soon  in  the 
open  doorway  there  also  appeared  Abel  Cram,  curi 
ously  blinking  around,  and  supported  by  an  attendant  on 
either  hand. 

"  Do  you  see  this  man  ? "  sharply  queried  Lawton  of 
the  three  first-comers,  who  glared  at  each  other,  and  then 
at  the  two  excited  conspirators. 

A  unanimous  mumble  acknowledged  the  fact. 

"  Get  a  good  look  at  him.  Examine  him  closely,"  said 
Lawton.  Silence  reigned,  broken  only  by  the  hoarse 
whispers  of  the  two  villains  to  their  astounded  lawyer, 
both  talking  at  once. 

"  Take  him  away  for  the  present,"  Lawton  remarked. 
Abel  was  led  away,  and,  at  a  touch  of  the  arm  from 
Winthrop,  the  officer  retired. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Lawton  determinedly,  "  I  will 
ask  these  three  men,  in  your  presence,  if  my  statement  is 
not  correct.  On  Thanksgiving  Eve  this  man,  shown 
you,  boarded  the  schooner  Restless,  in  the  stream,  from 
the  tug  Faugh  a  Ballagh." 

O'Hara  started. 

Lawton  resumed  :  "  His  companions  were  Thomas 
Overton  and  these  two  gentlemen  here  with  Mr.  O'Hara. 
Overton  left  the  port  on  the  schooner,  and  this  man,  who 
came  on  the  tug  in  good  health,  was  thrust  ashore  at  a 
wharf  on  the  North  River  in  an  almost  helpless  condition. 
He  was  dragged  off — abandoned  ;  and  you,"  cried  Law- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  307 

ton,  pointing  to  the  now  alarmed  scoundrels,  "  helped  to 
drag  and  push  him  off." 

O'Hara's  face  was  crimson.  The  precious  pair  at  his 
side  gazed  longingly  at  the  open  door  and  windows. 

"  Now,"  said  Lawton,  in  a  harsh,  menacing  tone,  "  I  do 
not  care  whether  I  land  only  three,  or  the  whole  five  of 
you,  in  State's  prison.  This  man  was  brutally  assaulted 
and  ruined  for  life.  Is  that  the  man  who  was  put  off 
the  boat  ? "  the  judge  demanded  of  the  three  terrified 
longshoremen. 

They  hung  their  heads,  and  answered,  "Yes." 

"  Mr.  O'Hara,"  Lawton  briskly  said,  "  these  three 
people  were  the  captain,  engineer,  and  mate  of  that  tug, 
which  is  under  Mr.  Riley's  daily  control."  Riley  groaned. 
"  Now,  Winthrop,  keep  these  men  here  till  I  call  for 
them."  Under  the  clerk's  guidance  the  witnesses  slipped 
from  the  room. 

Turning  to  the  three  astounded  listeners,  Lawton 
coldly  said  :  "  Mr.  O'Hara,  I  could  greatly  extend  my 
remarks  on  this  transaction.  I  will  only  say  to  you  that 
I  can  prove  the  fact  of  this  Abel  Cram's  complicity  in 
this  robbery.  I  can  prove  that  he  took  the  plunder  of 
the  bank  robbery  on  board  that  tug  with  Overton.  I 
have  now  the  warrants  for  your  clients'  arrest  for  this 
assault  and  later  robbery  of  the  thief.  I  will  let  you  con 
fer  with  them  for  five  minutes  before  I  call  in  .the  offi 
cers.  Here  is  a  small  side  room  where  you  are  secure." 

Lawton  opened  a  corner  snuggery,  where  many  a  client, 
fair  or  otherwise,  had  escaped  sudden  interruptions. 

As  the  door  closed  on  the  three,  Seth  Wise  was  about 
to  speak.  Lawton  placed  his  finger  on  his  lip,  and  calmly 
walked  up  and  down.  His  face  was  twitching  with  sup 
pressed  emotion. 

Wise  and  Lawton  started  as  the  closet  door  was  flung 
open  and  the  three  visitors  reentered.  There  was  a 
furtive  smile  on  O'Hara's  lips. 


308  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  I  am  surprised  at  your  attempt  to  intimidate  me, 
Judge,"  he  measuredly  said.  "  My  clients  are  perfectly 
willing  to  meet  any  trial  you  may  bring  them  to.  If  this 
man  Overton  brought  a  drunken  fool  to  the  schooner 
with  him  and  sent  him  ashore,  it  is  his  business,  not  ours. 
I  suppose  you  know  he  is  dead,"  said  the  wily  advocate, 
his  sneer  now  returning.  "  I  warn  you  now,  sir,  that  you 
have  no  right  to  restrain  my  clients  here.  I  demand 
their  regular  arrest,  and  I'll  make  you  smart  for  it." 

Seth  Wise  looked  flurried,  while  Lawton  calmly  leaned 
over  and  whispered  to  him.  Seth  rose,  and  in  a  moment 
returned,  leading  into  the  room  a  veiled  lady  whose 
elegance  of  form  was  the  only  visible  hint  of  the  beauty 
hidden  by  the  double  folds  of  the  silken  gauze. 

O'Hara  rose  in  mad  anger. 

"This  is  some  more  of  your  patched -up  tomfoolery. 
I  propose  to  leave  this  room  at  once."  His  clients,  with 
shaking  knees,  gazed  on  the  woman,  whose  basilisk  eyes 
were  peering  at  them  from  under  her  silken  armor.  They 
could  not  see  her  face. 

"  Oh,  you  may  abandon  your  clients,  if  you  wish,"  said 
Lawton,  throwing  off  the  mask. 

In  a  voice  of  thunder  he  exclaimed  to  the  two  villains, 
about  to  sneak  out  after  their  lawyer  :  "  Not  another 
step !  I've  got  two  other  warrants  for  you,  and  you  will 
go  to  the  Tombs.  Winthrop,  just  ask  the  Captain  to  step 
in  here."  Lawton  was  in  his  glory. 

"  For  God's  sake  !  O'Hara,"  cried  Riley. 

•'  Don't  be  a  fool.  Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  sullen 
attorney. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  stern  face  of  a  police  captain 
appeared  at  the  door. 

Judge  Lawton  sprang  to  his  side.  "These  are  the 
two  men,  Captain,"  pointing  to  them.  "  If  they  attempt 
to  pass,  arrest  them  under  the  second  warrants."  The 
Captain  bowed,  and  the  golden  shield  on  his  breast 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  309 

looked  very  large  to  the  now  thoroughly  frightened 
villains. 

"  Pray,  be  seated,  Captain,"  politely  remarked  the 
old  judge.  Winthrop  and  Wise  were  keenly  eying  the 
half-frantic  thieves.  "  I  wish  you  to  hear  this  lady's 
statement." 

In  some  strange  way  Walter  Maxwell  had  stolen  into 
the  room,  and  he  now  fixed  his  steady  gaze  on  Don  Jose. 
His  hand  was  on  his  hip-pocket. 

"  Do  you  know  these  two  men,  madam  ? "  said  the 
judge,  addressing  the  veiled  lady. 

"  I  do,"  was  the  brief  reply,  in  an  agitated  voice. 

"  Where  did  you  see  them  last  ? "  the  lawyer  con 
tinued. 

"  In  the  cabin  of  the  schooner  Restless  on  the  night 
the  bank  of  Morton,  Burnham  £  Co.  was  robbed.  The 
schooner  was  then  lying  in  the  Lower  Bay." 

Jose  and  Riley  both  whispered  to  O'Hara,  whose 
angry  gesture  bade  them  cease.  He  was  watching,  and 
amazed. 

"  Have  you  seen  this  sick  man,  Abel  Cram,  before 
to-day  ?  "  Lawton  continued. 

The  lady  nodded.  "  I  saw  the  same  man  come  on 
board  the  Restless  with  these  two  men  and  Mr.  Overtoil, 
the  night  we  sailed,"  was  the  answer. 

"  And  you  recognize,  also,  the  three  men  who  were 
handling  the  tug,  who  are  now  outside  ?  "  Lawton  con 
tinued,  in  triumph. 

"  I  do,  certainly.  I  saw  them  when  I  went  on  the 
schooner,"  was  her  reply. 

Every  head  was  now  bent  forward  to  catch  these  fate 
ful  words  coming  from  behind  that  silken  veil,  whose 
folds  could  not  be  penetrated  by  the  shivering  thieves  or 
the  anxious  watchers.  A  veiled  Sibyl  ! 

"  Thank  you,  madam.  That  will  do  for  the  present. 
Captain,"  said  the  old  judge,  "  I  may  need  you  in  a 

Vr.   0? 


310  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

moment.  I  probably  will,"  he  said,  with  a  ringing  voice, 
as  the  phlegmatic  police  commander — used  to  such 
scenes — walked  out  to  enjoy  a  cigar. 

"  Now,  Mr.  O'Hara,"  said  Lawton,  "  if  you  wish  to 
retire  alone  I  am  willing  you  should  go.  I  will  proceed 
to  further  refresh  the  memory  of  your  injured  clients — 
should  you  desire  it — however,  before  you  leave  us,  as  to 
the  valuable  forgotten  deposits  left  with  them  by  Mr. 
Thomas  Overton." 

"  Go  ahead — you  may  as  well,"  said  O'Hara  doggedly. 
His  bitterly  muttered  curse  was  withheld,  for  he  suddenly 
thought  of  stiffening  his  fee  to  gigantic  proportions.  It 
would  pay  him  to  know  all.  He  had  Riley  and  Oliviera 
in  the  jail-door.  O'Hara  never  let  go  his  grip.  He 
played  no  losing  cards. 

"  Madam,"  softly  said  Lawton,  resuming,  "  did  you 
see  Mr.  Thomas  Overton  give  these  two  men  any  valu 
ables  on  the  night  of  your  sailing  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  was  the  calm  answer. 

"  It's  a  d d  lie!"  howled  Riley.  "We  were  all 

alone."  A  curse  broke  from  Oliviera's  curled  lips. 
Maxwell  and  Winthrop  sprang  before  the  mysterious 
oracle.  Lawton  merely  smiled. 

"  One  more  interruption  like  that,  you  loafer,"  said 
Lawton,  "  and  I'll  complete  the  arrest.  You  were  born 
for  Sing  Sing." 

The  sound  of  suppressed  breathing  was  heard  from  the 
cornered  scoundrels.  The  Spaniard  was  yellowish  green. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  Lawton  sharply  asked,  to  end  mat 
ters. 

"  It  was  a  very  large  amount  of  United  States  bonds 
and  currency,  which  was  divided  among  the  three,  in  cer 
tain  proportions.  I  have  the  figures,"  the  veiled  Witch 
firmly  answered. 

"  Have  you  with  you  a  list  of  the  bonds  then  divided, 
and  their  numbers  ?"  Lawton  asked,  warming  up. 


DEI.  1 1.. AM     OK     HAK1.KM.  3TT 

"  I  have  it  here,  now,"  said  the  mysterious  lady,  stretch 
ing  out  a  beautifully  gloved  hand,  and  disclosing  the 
symmetry  of  a  lovely  arm. 

The  eyes  of  Riley  and  Don  Jose  were  haggard  and 
wolfish.  Seth  Wise  and  the  two  young  armed  guardians 
were  on  the  alert.  O'Hara  was  sullen  but  observant. 
The  game  was  up.  He  was  only  now  calculating  his  fee. 

"  You  saw  the  list  made  by  Thomas  Overton,  in  the 
presence  of  these  men,  that  night  ?  " 

"  I  did."    The  reply  was  decisive  and  firm. 

"  And  Overton  gave  it  to  you  that  night  ? "  Lawton 
remorselessly  added. 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  have  had  it  ever  since,"  the  Sibyl  said. 

"  Where  were  you  ?  How  could  you  see  ?  "  Lawton 
quietly  asked,  gazing  triumphantly  at  the  panting  thieves. 

"  I  was  looking  through  the  little  window  slide  between 
my  private  cabin  and  the  main  cabin,"  the  lady  said 
wearily.  "  Overton  told  me  to  do  so,  the  moment  he 
came  on  board." 

"  Only  one  question  more  !  Where  was  this  poor  fel 
low  Cram  at  this  time  ?  " 

Lawton  had  driven  his  nail  home. 

"  He  was  lying  sleeping  on  a  cushioned  bench,  in  the 
same  cabin  with  them.  They  filled  him  with  drink," 
proceeded  the  veiled  witness. 

"  And  you  then  sailed  away  with  Overton,  and  these 
two  men  took  Cram  off  on  the  tug  ?  "  Lawton  concluded. 

"  Precisely,"  now  faintly  said  the  tired  woman.  She 
was  failing  under  these  avowals. 

"  Mr.  Winthrop,  pray  take  madam  out,"  said  the 
sharp-witted  Lawton. 

The  veiled  accuser  rose,  and  gracefully  swept  into  the 
adjoining  rooms.  The  room  seemed  lonely. 

"  This  is  a  pretty  likely  story,"  sneered  O'Hara.  "  A 
flimsy  yarn — and  you  don't  dare  show  the  lady's  face. 
Well,  I  am  done  with  these  fairy  tales." 


312  DEI. II. AH    OK    HAKLKM. 

Lawton  smartly  said  to  Maxwell  :  "  Bring  in  that 
maid.  Oh  !  I  have  another  witness." 

Jose  and  Riley  bounded  from  their  seats,  as  Max 
well  ushered  in  the  yellow-visaged  handmaiden,  Fanny. 
Her  wondering  eyes  rolled  around  the  group  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  these  two  men  ?  "  said  Lawton. 

"  Laws  a  massy,  yes,  sir.  I  fust  seed  'em  with  Massa 
Overton  on  the  schooner  Restless,  the  night  we  done 
sail  from  New  York." 

"And  the  four  men  outside,"  the  judge  questioned, 
"  where  did  you  see  them  ?  " 

"  I  done  seed  'em  all  there.  I  went  on  that  there 
schooner  with  my  missis,  on  their  little  steamboat ;  an' 
the  other  man,  he  come  on  board  with  Massa  Tom  Over- 
ton."  The  girl  was  voluble. 

"  Very  good,  Fanny — you  can  go." 

The  yellow  damsel  fled  away  gladly  to  her  mistress. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Lawton,  in  a  ringing  voice,  striding 
quickly  up  to  the  defeated  O'Hara,  "  I'll  give  you  one 
last  chance  to  see  if  your  clients'  feeble  memories  have 
been  quickened.  You  see,  I  have  two  witnesses  to  the 
felonies."  O'Hara  winced.  "  I  have  here  a  full  list  of 
the  stolen  bonds,  and  their  numbers  ;  also,  the  general 
figures  of  the  currency." 

"  Can  I  see  them  ?  "  meekly  said  O'Hara,  whose  frantic 
clients  were  now  clutching  at  his  sleeves. 

"Yes,"  coldly  said  Lawton,  "after  your  clients  are 
lodged  in  the  Tombs.  I  will  use  these  facts  in  the 
search  warrants  when  I  have  their  houses,  safes,  and 
private  vault  boxes,  properly  examined.  I  shall  not  wait 
very  long.  They  can't  get  away." 

O'Hara,  his  head  drooping,  led  the  two  defeated 
scoundrels  into  the  seclusion  of  the  side  room.  Silence 
reigned  in  the  outer  office  until,  after  ten  minutes, 
O'Hara  appeared  alone. 


DKLILAH    OF    HARLEM.  313 

"Judge,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  you  privately,"  he 
humbly  said. 

"  See  here,  O'Hara,"  Lawton  replied,  "  I  want  wit 
nesses  of  this  little  transaction.  I  have  not  a  moment 
to  give  you.  I  have  had  this  list  of  bonds  copied,  and 
also  the  amounts  of  currency  received  by  each  of  these 
thieves.  I  do  not  propose  to  compound  any  felony.  I 
simply  say  that  on  return  of  the  bonds  and  currency — or 
an  equal  amount,  forthwith — I  will  not  have  these  war 
rants  served,  at  present,  for  the  felony.  As  for  the  assault 
on  Abel  Cram,  your  clients  can  pay  such  a  sum  as  you  and 
I  may  agree  on  to  provide  for  him,  in  case  of  future  need. 
You  may  not  be  aware  that  his  mind  is  somewhat  restored. 
His  evidence  is  available.  I'll  send  out  an  agent  of  mine 
and  an  officer  in  plain  clothes,  with  each  of  your  clients. 
You  can  stay  here  if  you  wish.  If  they  return  at  once 
with  the  property,  I  will  not  press  the  theft  charges.  It 
remains  with  them  to  make  provision  for  Cram,  and  also 
Flanagan.  My  expenses  you  can  pay  also." 

"  How  will  I  get  this  money  back  ?  "  muttered  O'Hara, 
whose  pride  was  utterly  broken.  He  hated  defeat.  It 
was  his  Waterloo. 

"  Add  it  to  your  bill,  and  you  pay  it  to  me.  You  will 
not  talk  very  much  about  this  transaction.  You  would 
not  like  to  be  disbarred,  would  you  ?  " 

Lawton  paused,  gazing  in  O'Hara's  eyes. 

The  sly  advocate  groaned.  "  Just  give  me  a  little 
time  to  decide,"  he  pleaded. 

"  Yes,  exactly  five  minutes,"  said  the  merciless  Law- 
ton,  placing  his  watch  on  the  table.  Old  Seth  Wise's 
eyes  were  gleaming. 

"  There  are  duplicates  of  the  lists — one  for  each  of 
y^ur  gentlemanly  clients.  I  advise  you  to  be  brief.  I 
want  to  hear  from  you  alone."  Lawton  drew  out  a  long 
cigar.  The  listening  circle  gazed  at  each  other.  O'Hara 
crept  into  the  anteroom. 


3t4  DELILAH    UK    HAR1.K.M. 

The  quickly  flying  seconds  brought  to  the  listeners  the 
sound  of  loud  argument,  curses,  and  appeal.  It  finally 
died  away.  The  door  opened,  and,  pale  as  a  ghost,  the 
evidently  disgusted  O'Hara  returned. 

"  It's  all  over.  We  accept.  But  we  stipulate  that  you 
will  not  interfere  with  Jose  Oliviera's  business  or  bother 
Mr.  Riley,"  the  lawyer  concluded.  He  must  save  some 
thing. 

"  I  will  leave  them  to  the  general  hangman,  when 
ever  he  can  catch  them  on  his  own  account,"  Lawton  re 
joined.  "  It  is  simply  to  avoid  publicity  that  we  do  not 
go  on  and  unearth  your  whole  devilish  schemes.  Are 
your  men  ready  now  ?  "  Lawton  was  remorseless. 

4<  They  are,"  despondently  said  O'Hara.  In  ten  min 
utes,  two  officers,  with  Maxwell  and  Winthrop,  whirled 
away  with  the  separated  villains  in  search  of  their  ran 
som. 

Judge  Lawton  suggested  to  Seth  Wise  a  drive  home 
with  the  mysterious  lady.  He  wanted  no  dogging  her 
footsteps. 

"  We  will  be  ready  for  you,  Mr.  Wise,  on  your  return," 
said  the  delighted  counsellor,  as  he  warmly  pressed  the 
hands  of  the  departing  beauty,  whose  incognito  is  still 
preserved,  as  a  mysterious  goddess,  in  the  offices  of  the 
victorious  Lawton. 

O'Hara  moodily  chafed  in  the  little  private  room  during 
the  two  hours  before  Wise  returned.  The  thieves  were 
ready  for  the  settlement.  O'Hara  had  finally  forced  the 
cornered  scoundrels  to  see  the  wisdom  of  surrender. 
The  even  tenor  of  the  legal  office  routine  was  pursued 
until  the  crestfallen  pair  of  rogues  counted  up  the  full 
amount  of  their  plunder. 

Reassuring  glances  told  Lawton  that  all  was  well. 
Bustling  Seth  Wise,  with  unwonted  activity,  checked  off 
the  original  bonds,  smiling  broadly.  The  deft  fingers  of 
Maxwell  and  Winthrop  verified  the  return  of  the  total 


DKLH.AH    OK    HARLEM.  315 

amounts  of  cash  and  bonds.  There  was  a  grim  look  on 
old  Seth's  face,  as  he  softly  murmured  :  "  And  this  is 
the  fatal  treasure  for  which  Overton  and  Morton  died. 
Hard  enough  to  win — harder  yet  to  keep  !  " 

Winthrop  dismissed  the  babbling  Abel,  still  muttering 
his  incoherent  gabble  of  "  races,"  "  pools,"  and  "  horses," 
to  his  place  of  safety.  His  punishment  was  bitter  enough 
without  shackles. 

Before  the  whole  assembled  party,  the  police  captain 
paroled  the  three  tugmen,  with  a  warning  to  report  their 
addresses  once  every  month.  The  Captain  joyously  de 
parted,  with  a  cheerful  calm  on  his  indurated  face,  for  he 
was  aware  that  his  "  interests  "  were  safe  in  the  hands  of 
the  victorious  Lawton.  A  handsome  douceur  was  inevi 
tably  forthcoming. 

Not  a  word  on  the  secret  business  was  spoken,  till 
the  police  squad  had  disappeared. 

"  Mr.  O'Hara,"  said  Judge  Lawton  briskly,  "  I  wish 
now  to  warn  your  clients,  before  you,  that  their  future 
safety  will  depend  upon  the  absolute  freedom  from  any 
interference,  of  every  single  person  connected  with  this 
forced  settlement.  You  can  see  me  to-morrow,  and  ad 
just  the  matters  of  expenses  spoken  of  to  you.  I  have 
not  chosen  to  show  you  how  deeply  we  have  probed  your 
clients'  combined  rascalities.  If  this  scandal  ever  reaches 
the  public,  it  will  be  their  own  fault.  I  don't  fear  you 
in  the  matter.  I  will  have  them  watched  until  the  future 
shows  them  to  be  harmless.  That  will  do."  Lawton 
took  up  a  brief. 

Black  boiling  blood  inflamed  the  visages  of  the  two 
helpless  scoundrels  as  they  crept  down-stairs — followed 
by  their  defeated  adviser. 

"  Thank  God  !  I  can  make  these  fools  pay  me  well  for 
this  humiliation,"  O'Hara  thought,  as  he  called  a  coupe, 
after  bidding  them  rendezvous  at  his  house. 

"Now for  a  pleasant  luncheon,"  cheerfully  cried  Judge 


316  PKULAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Lawton.  As  the  party  descended,  Maxwell  and  VVin- 
throp  were  proudly  bearing  the  bulky  bundles  of  the 
recovered  securities  and  treasure. 

It  was  only  when  Seth  Wise  saw  the  vault  doors  close 
on  the  regained  fortune  of  Claire  Morton  that  the  old 
man  breathed  freely.  He  contemplated  with  pride  the 
new  electric  detectors,  and  added  safeguards  of  the 
strengthened  vaults.  Every  device  of  human  ingenuity 
had  been  added  to  the  stronghold. 

"  Not  a  word  now,  to  Burnham,  of  the  details  of  this 
recovery,"  Seth  gravely  adjured  Maxwell.  "  I  do  not 
wish  him  ever  to  know  of  Mrs.  Martin's  flying  visit  to 
this  country.  Poor  Morton  !  His  wife's  destined  fort 
une  is  nearly  all  recovered.  The  only  shortage  left  is 
against  his  own  estate — and  the  bank's  surplus  profits." 

Judge  Lawton  and  Maxwell,  with  the  gayly  triumphant 
Winthrop,  could  not  divine  the  cause  of  the  cloud  hov 
ering  on  old  Seth's  brow,  as  the  party  sat  in  the  private 
club-room.  It  was  Morton's  overshadowing  memory. 

World-worn  weariness  furrowed  Seth  Wise's  cheeks. 
Old  and  lonely,  his  life  spent  in  battling  for  money — he 
was  tired  of  striving  for  others,  and  chilled  by  finding 
disappointment  and  care  on  every  hand.  For  his  own 
heart  told  him  that  Morton's  money,  Morton's  business, 
Morton's  fair  widow,  and  his  own  endowment  of  Claire 
— all  would  drift  into  Ralph  Burnham's  hands. 

After  a  life  spent  in  toiling  for  the  three  young  people 
he  had  so  long  protected,  his  most  cherished  plans  had 
miscarried.  It  was  a  callous  stranger  adventuress  who 
had  thrown  these  benefits  all  into  Ralph  Burnham's 
hands.  Truly,  the  Witch  had  wrought,  in  the  dark,  for 
Ralph,  her  quondam  lover.  And  Morton's  mad  passion 
had  swept  away  in  its  fiery  flood  the  well-planned  work 
of  Seth  Wise's  whole  life. 

The  old  banker  fiercely  crunched  his  cigar,  and  quaffed 
his  beaker  of  wine.  He  wearily  dreamed  of  returning 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  317 

to  work.  Work,  money-grubbing,  was  his  only  resource 
— his  panacea — his  darling  daily  burden. 

"  Judge,"  said  Wise,  on  leaving,  "  I  leave  every  detail 
of  the  O'Hara  settlement  to  you.  I  wish  you  to  lend  me 
this  young  man  " — nodding  at  Winthrop — "  to  escort  our 
veiled  witness  back  to  Paris.  He  shall  lose  nothing  by 
the  trip." 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Lawton. 

"Then,  youngster,"  WTise  remarked,  "get  ready  to 
take  the  next  French  steamer.  Come  up  to  my  house 
to-morrow  night,  and  see  your  dangerous  and  precious 
charge.  I  will  give  your  instructions  to  you  then." 

"  Maxwell,"  said  the  old  banker,  as  the  others  left,  "  I 
am  going  to  rearrange  all  my  affairs.  I  do  not  wish 
Burnham  or  Claire  Morton  to  know  the  details  of  this 
last  affair.  It  would,  perhaps,  throw  a  shadow  over  their 
future." 

Maxwell  understood,  and  was  silent. 

"  You  have  won  your  spurs  fairly,  my  boy.  In  the 
reorganized  firm,  you  shall  find  in  your  interest  a  solid 
reward  for  your  devotion  and  energy.  Now,  get  away  to 
the  bank.  I  am  going  up-town  to  see  our  Parisian  visitor." 

Marie  Ashton  Martin  welcomed  "her  genial  foe"  at 
his  home  with  eagerness. 

As  the  old  man  gazed  on  her  now  undisguised  beauty, 
thinking  of  her  wonderful  nerve  and  ready  wit,  he  mar 
velled  not  that  her  witchery  carried  her  safely  through 
life's  dangers  and  intrigues. 

"  I  know,  madam,  you  naturally  wish  for  an  immediate 
departure,"  said  he.  "  Pardon,  if  I  speak  of  business. 
I  will  give  you  to-morrow  the  drafts  for  the  well-earned 
money  which  will  explain  your  brief  visit.  I  can  insure 
you  absolute  silence  here.  Your  safety  is  provided  for 
by  the  escort  I  will  give  you  to  your  own  door.  But  one 
thing  occurs  to  me.  Where  are  the  original  bonds  you 
received  and  for  which  you  settled  ?" 


3l8  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

"  I  brought  them  with  me,  thinking  you  might  need 
them,"  the  quick-witted  Witch  answered. 

"  I  will  replace  them  with  even  amounts  of  the  same 
value,  so  you  will  never  be  annoyed.  Now  write  your 
cablegram  to  Mr.  Martin,  and  I  will  also  write  one. 
Your  return  will  be  expected,  and  your  success  an 
nounced." 

It  was  soon  done,  and,  after  explaining  every  detail  of 
the  day's  work,  Seth  said  :  "  I  will  leave  you  now.  Do 
not  show  your  face  out  of  this  shelter  in  the  day.  I  will 
drive  out  with  you  in  the  evening — and  arrange  for  all 
your  wants.  Keep  your  maid  indoors  also.  Is  there 
any  one  of  the  thieving  gang  who  might  know  you  ?  " 

"Ah!  no,"  the  Witch  replied,  "the  Spaniard  and 
Riley  never  saw  my  face.  There  was  but  one  man  who 
could  have  betrayed  me  to  them."  She  spoke  sadly. 

"And  he  was?  "  Wise  interjected. 

"Captain  Jonas  Skinner,  of  the  Restless.    Read  that." 

The  Witch  handed  Wise  a  brief  notice  in  the  New 
York  «  Herald." 

Lost — in  a  cyclone  off  Cuba — the  American  schooner  Restless,  and 
her  entire  crew. 

It  was  indeed  true.  Wise  read  the  details  of  the 
foundering  of  the  fleet  racer,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Skinner,  in  one  of  the  sudden  storms  of  the 
treacherous  Spanish  main.  But  one  or  two  poor  wretches 
were  saved  to  tell  the  tale. 

"Then  you  are  safe  here,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Now,  I  wish  to  leave  the  first  moment  I  can,"  said  the 
imprisoned  beauty.  "  I  have  kept  my  word.  I  look  to 
your  honor  to  cover  my  history  here,  and  protect  my  past." 

<l  The  steamer  sails  to-morrow,"  Seth  answered.  "  I 
send  Winthrop  to  guard  you.  He  will  provide  all.  And 
now,  will  you  protect  your  own  future  ?  "  Seth  earnestly 
said,  taking  her  hands  in  his. 


DKLILAH    OF     IIAR1.KM.  319 

The  Witch  of  Harlem  sprang  to  her  feet.  Her  eyes 
blazed. 

4<  There's  one  man  who  has  taken  me  at  my  best — has 
given  me  of  his  best — believed  in  me— and  trusted  me. 
By  the  God  above  us  !  I  will  never  betray  him.  He 
shall  never  know  me  as  I  have  been.  If  God  spares  him 
the  disgrace  of  that  awful  history,  I  will  make  atone 
ment." 

The  old  banker  passed  out  silently — his  eyes  filled 
with  tears — but  a  blessing  shone  on  her  through  the  mists 
which  veiled  her  from  him.  Her  slender  hands  were 
still  tingling  with  his  earnest  clasp. 

Fleet  and  graceful,  the  French  liner  swung  out  next 
day  to  bear  Marie  Martin  away  from  her  native  land 
forever,  in  peace  of  mind.  Her  share  of  the  recovery 
was  safe  in  her  possession.  Old  Seth  gravely  said  adieu 
at  his  home.  Maxwell  waved  a  good-by  from  the  pier, 
and  Harry  Winthrop,  delighted  at  his  trust  of  honor, 
pointed  out  the  last  glimpse  of  the  shore  to  his  lovely 
charge,  where  the  sun  sank  in  purple  and  gold. 

All  was  over.  The  baffled  conspirators  were  powerless 
to  make  open  or  covert  attack.  Judge  Lawton  cheer 
fully  closed  up  the  final  details  with  the  sullen  O'Hara. 

As  the  shore  faded  from  her  sight,  the  fair  Witch  of 
Harlem  turned  her  face  toward  the  east,  where  a  newer 
life,  safe  now  from  the  vengeance  of  old  enemies,  awaited 
her.  Her  watchful  escort  handed  her  a  little  box,  as 
the  lady  sought  her  rooms  for  the  evening.  "  Mr.  Wise 
asked  me  to  give  you  this,  when  we  would  be  off  shore." 

In  her  stateroom,  Marie  opened  the  case.  It  contained  a 
diamond  bangle  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  within  its  gold 
en  circlet  was  engraved  the  simple  word,  "  Remember." 

The  fair  Witch  of  Harlem  clasped  it  on  her  arm,  with 
a  happy  heart.  She  did  not  wonder.  She  knew  the  old 
banker  would  not  trust  himself  to  frame  his  parting 
advice  in  spoken  words. 


32O  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

On  through  the  night — lulled  by  the  sighing  ocean 
breeze — dashing  along  toward  the  distant  haven  she 
sought,  Marie  Martin's  eyes  closed  dreamily  in  hope  of 
future  peace  as  the  pressure  of  her  diamond  circlet 
brought  to  her  lips  the  word  "  Remember.'' 

Three  months  after  the  safe  return  of  the  veiled  witness, 
Seth  Wise,  his  mind  free  of  cares,  called  Burnham  and 
Maxwell  to  him  in  a  solemn  conclave.  He  laid  down  his 
views  as  to  the  permanent  reorganization  of  the  firm. 
"  Burnham,  Maxwell  &  Co."  was  to  be  the  banner  under 
which  the  young  men  would  battle.  Judge  Lawton  had 
already  prepared  the  drafts  of  the  new  organization. 

"  I  shall  watch  you  from  time  to  time,  and  so  have 
something  left  to  amuse  me  with,"  said  the  veteran. 

With  some  embarrassment,  when  alone,  Ralph  Burnham 
confided  to  Seth  Wise  his  approaching  marriage  with 
Claire  Morton.  He  felt  in  his  heart  that  Marie  Ashton's 
wiles  alone  had  given  him  his  bride. 

Seth  Wise  was  very  grave.  "  When  will  the  wedding 
take  place  ?  "  he  said. 

"In  three  months,"  Ralph  replied  ;  "  but  I  thought  it 
only  fair  to  you  to  tell  you  now,  as  it  might  make  some 
difference  to  you  in  your  ideas  as  to  the  new  firm." 

The  old  man  mused  for  a  long  interval.  Lifting  his 
head,  he  said  calmly  :  "  Ralph,  I  shall  put  the  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  I  intended  for  Claire  Morton 
in  the  new  business — in  her  name.  I  will  provide  for 
her  when  she  is  Claire  Burnham,  further,  by  my  will. 
To  you,  I  will  give  that  share  of  income  of  the  business 
which  Morton  drew  as  managing  partner,  without  capital. 
I  supposed  this  marriage  would  occur,"  said  the  old  man 
with  a  half-sigh,  "  and  I  have  thought  it  over.  Are  you 
satisfied^?  "  he  searchingly  asked. 

"  I  am  very  grateful  to  you,"  said  Burnham. 
• "  Then  I  may  fully  confer  with  Claire  on  this  coming 
event,"  said  Wise. 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  321 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,"  said  Burnham. 

"  I  will  go  up  there  now  and  see  her,"  Wise  replied, 
K  as  I  wish  all  these  changes  finished  soon.  I  need  rest 
and  peace  of  mind." 

It  seemed  strange  to  Burnham  that  old  Seth  had 
uttered  no  word  of  rejoicing,  and  had  extended  him  no 
congratulation.  Old  Seth  muttered  as  he  left  :  "  I've 
tied  your  hands,  my  boy  ;  you'll  never  go  astray.  That 
money  will  be  your  price,  and  you  will  have  to  earn  it  !  " 

That  night  Claire  Morton  was  distraite  in  the  presence 
of  her  accepted  lover.  The  serious  matters  discussed  by 
Seth  Wise  with  the  expectant  bride  occupied  their  minds, 
and  on  the  lips  of  both  trembled  the  words  they  dared 
not  utter.  In  vague  unrest,  each  remembered  that,  while 
Seth's  hand  showered  royal  benefits  on  both,  his  lips 
were  silent  in  benediction  or  approval.  There  was  a 
hovering  shadow  between  them.  It  was  the  wraith  of 
foolish,  passionate  Harry  Morton— in  his  lonely  grave 
in  far-off  Honduras. 

Seth  Wise,  with  Maxwell — now  his  only  house  compan 
ion — cheerily  passed  his  evenings.  The  new  firm  was 
proudly  blazoned  forth,  the  papers  all  signed,  and,  brave 
in  its  new  decorations,  the  bark  launched  on  the  seas  of 
finance  ploughed  gayly  along.  As  the  day  of  Burnham's 
wedding  approached,  Seth's  face  took  on  a  graver  tinge. 
A  week  previous,  Maxwell  handed  to  Ralph  Burnham  a 
sealed  letter  from  Wise,  and  one  for  his  bride.  While 
there  was  a  royal  present  sent  by  Uncle  Seth  to  the  lady, 
Maxwell — as  best  man  at  the  strictly  private  marriage — 
marvelled  not  at  the  absence  of  the  old  banker,  who  was 
absent  "  on  business  "  in  a  distant  city. 

The.  letters  contained  the  old  banker's  wish  that  bride 
and  groom  would  go  abroad  for  a  visit.  "  Mr.  Maxwell 
is  authorized  to  represent  me  in  the  bank  while  you  are 
away,  and  I  will  also  watch  it  myself." 

As   Ralph   Burnham  read   these  words,    he    pondered 

21 


322  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

deeply.  The  letter  to  Claire  was  never  read  by  him. 
As  husband  and  wife,  they  sailed  at  once  for  Europe, 
without  discussion  of  these  little  shadows. 

It  was  a  singular  fact  that  the  old  banker  promptly 
appeared  at  his  desk  on  the  day  after  their  departure, 
and  delighted  himself,  in  their  absence,  with  a  fit  of  ex 
treme  industry.  Harry  Winthrop's  return  had  closed  the 
great  bank  robbery  affair  finally — with  the  safe  return  of 
the  veiled  witness. 

Wandering  over  Europe,  Ralph  Burnham  and  his  wife 
sought  in  vain  to  renew  the  electric  sparkle  of  the  old 
Harvard  days.  Nature's  panorama,  the  social  whirl,  and 
bizarre  incidents  of  travel  enlivened  these  later  days. 
There  was  an  easy  peace  and  harmony  between  them. 
Their  future  interests  were  identical,  and  a  confidence, 
born  of  long  usage,  bound  them  in  a  light  yoke.  Still 
in  the  early  bloom  of  life,  the  world  was  open  to  them 
both,  with  all  its  varied  pleasures.  And  yet — on  the 
deck  of  the  Rhine  steamer — walking  late,  under  the 
stars — in  all  their  rovings — Ralph  felt  a  vague  uneasi 
ness.  That  Claire  was  finally  bound  to  him  for  life  he 
admitted,  with  great  self-satisfaction.  The  future  was 
clear  before  him.  And  yet,  the  dark  eyes  of  his  wife 
had  never  the  tender  flash  of  the  loving  Claire  of  olden 
days.  The  long  years  of  waiting  drifted  back  in  memory. 
A  gnawing  jealousy  of  the  dead  man  whispered  that  Claire 
had  never  really  preferred  him  to  the  other.  He  was 
simply  successor  in  marriage,  in  place,  even  in  fortune, 
to  the  absent  one.  His  successes  were  wrought  for  him 
by  the  remorseless  fate  which  ruined  the  friend  of  his 
youth.  Delilah's  witchery  left  its  mystic  traces.  A  can 
ker  blighted  the  laurels  he  had  tardily  won,  in  the  mad 
New  York  strife  for  place  and  wealth. 

And  Claire  Burnham  could  not  altogether  drive  away 
from  her  heart  and  mind  the  man  whom  she  still  re 
gretted.  An  angry  flush  still  mantled  her  brow  as  she 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  323 

thought  of  how  that  one  fair  wanderer  had  supplanted 
her.  Child  of  the  modern  egoistic  life,  Claire  tried  to 
believe  that  Burnham  had  not  sought  her  for  all  her  hand 
would  bring.  And  yet,  she  was  always  haunted  by  this 
disturbing  thought.  In  her  dreams,  the  dead  and  living 
loves  hovered  around  her  uneasy  pillow.  Pallid  fingers 
seemed  to  grasp  at  the  myrtle  on  her  fair  brows. 

Three  months  of  restless  wandering  brought  them 
back  in  ennui  to  Paris — for  the  "  home  voyage."  Burn- 
ham  longed  now  for  the  nerve  tonic  of  the  "  Street's  " 
excitements.  Claire's  rosy  dreams  of  a  new  life,  lit  up 
with  the  fervid  tende  ^ess  of  ideal  love,  had  faded. 
She  turned  to  society's  dazzling  shadow  pictures. 

There  was  a  great  ball  at  the  Legation  of  the  United 
States.  To  this  the  returning  married  lovers  were  bid 
den.  Great  was  the  gathering  under  the  social  aegis  of 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  Paris.  The  American  Minister 
deftly  gathered  up  all  those  near  him  who  rejoiced  in 
that  somewhat  elastic  title  of  "  prominent  Americans." 
It  was  a  brave  sight.  Clad  in  garb  of  latest  splendor, 
the  bright-eyed,  hard-hearted,  pushing  daughters  of 
"  Uncle  Sam  "  amazed  the  local  guests  by  their  audacious 
beauty,  their  frank  eccentricities,  and  haughty  scorn  of 
each  other.  The  "  men  of  mark "  assimilated  more 
easily.  While  the  gilded  youth  of  Paris  deftly  besieged 
the  "budding  roses  with  golden  stems" — these  too 
easily  captivated  Western  heiresses — ranks  on  ranks  of 
callow,  idle  young  American  beaux  applied  themselves 
to  the  wine-cup,  or  laid  the  foundations  of  extremely 
reckless  flirtations  with  our  too  complaisant  matrons 
en  voyage. 

These  wayward  ladies,  free  of  hand,  plethoric  in  purse, 
and  stopping  at  no  ordinary  obstacles,  grimly  exhibited 
trains  of  young  admirers  to  the  envious  eyes  of  the  un 
married  "buds."  But  the  grand  coterie  of  hawk-eyed 
schemers — millionnaires,  manufacturers,  and  solid  citizens 


324 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 


— amiably  banded  together.  They  gazed  helplessly  at 
the  "  foreign  assaults  "  upon  the  bright-eyed  battalion  of 
heiresses.  By  tacit  consent  they  ignored  the  decidedly 
risque  abandon  of  their  luxurious  wives.  It  was  a  sore 
subject  to  these  devotees  of  "business." 

Sprinkled  through  the  motley  crowd  at  the  ball,  wan 
dering  Russian  princes,  hungry  Italian  counts,  stiff- 
necked  German  barons,  haughty  Austrian  officers,  and 
calm  English  "swells  of  the  single  eyeglass"  glared  at 
the  fortunate  French  noblesse,  and  amused  themselves 
with  this  great  "  international  heiress  battue:"  Herding 
in  little  knots,  in  card-room',  tabagie,  or  near  the  buffets — 
in  search  of  the  national  cocktail — the  pillars  of  Ameri 
can  finance  furtively  chatted  of  railroad  jobs,  petroleum 
swindles,  mining  robberies,  or  "  prophetic  politics." 
Rotund  in  form,  easy  of  disposition,  and  hugely  bored, 
they,awaited  the  close  of  the  u  market  exhibition  "  of  their 
fair  compatriots  and  their  own  wives  and  daughters. 

Burnham  and  his  handsome  wife — with  the  listless  air 
of  good  New  York  society — coldly  gazed,  with  superior 
scorn,  upon  the  Californian  grandees,  the  Chicago  con 
tingent,  and  the  efflorescent  representatives  of  the  sunny 
South  and  the  wild  West. 

Tired  and  amused  beyond  measure — it  was  still  a 
pleasure  to  Ralph  to  meet  here  and  there  an  old  com 
rade,  a  club  friend,  or  college  classmate. 

With  pride  he  presented  them  to  his  beautiful  wife, 
and  felt  his  marital  honors  for  the  first  time  as  a  new 
dignity. 

Chatting  a  few  moments  with  one  of  these  old  friends, 
Ralph  graciously  consented  as  he  said  :  "  Burnham,  I 
wish  to  have  the  pleasure  of  making  you  both  acquainted 
with  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Europe.  She's  a  great 
friend  of  mine.  They  have  a  princely  home  here." 

Moving  through  the  glittering  throng,  the  Burnhams, 
piloted  by  their  escort,  approached  a  circle  where  rib- 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  325 

bon,  star,  medal,  and  gaia  dress  varied  the  conventional 
American  black. 

"  Quite  a  court  the  lady  holds,"  said  Ralph  merrily, 
picking  his  way  through  the  outskirts  of  the  circle.  He 
saw  a  queenly  woman,  in  superb  robes,  with  flashing  jewels 
dazzling  the  eye.  His  bewildered  senses  almost  failed 
him  when  he  heard  his  friend  say  :  "  Mrs.  Martin,  I  wish 
to  present  to  you  my  friend,  Mrs.Burnham,  of  New  York." 

It  was  Delilah  of  Harlem  ! 

Ralph  sprang  forward  as  his  wife,  raising  her  eyes,  with 
a  wild  gasp  fell  back  senseless  in  his  arms. 

In  a  few  moments,  with  the  aid  of  eager  volunteers, 
Ralph  bore  away  his  almost  frantic  bride.  The  con 
venances  were  ignored.  Eager  questioners  thronged 
around.  While  his  wife  moaned  in  his  arms,  he  bitterly 
cursed  the  radiant  queen  of  the  ball  ;  for,  with  her  splen 
did  golden  hair  crowning  the  fairest  brows,  her  magnifi 
cent  form  bewildering  in  its  classic  lines,  and  the  jewels 
of  an  empress  crowning  her  stately  head,  Marie,  the 
Witch  of  Harlem,  flashed  at  him  one  glance  of  unutter 
able  scorn  and  hatred. 

So  it  was  to  her  feet  he  had  led — guided  by  fate — the 
bride  won  almost  at  the  side  of  his  best  friend's  grave. 
Beside  Marie,  in  pride,  a  grave-faced  man  was  guarding 
this  jewel  with  the  evident  rights  of  proprietorship.  It 
was  John  Martin,  unsuspecting  and  happy. 

Ten  days  later,  Burnham  and  his  wife  landed  at  New 
York.  The  voyage  was  one  of  weariness  and  haunting 
sadness.  Distrust  lurked  even  under  the  unwithered 
marriage  roses.  In  a  flash,  Claire  had  caught  the  poison 
ous  suspicion  of  some  yet  unexplained  secret.  She  trusted 
no  one  now.  Burnham  moodily  nursed  in  his  bosom  the 
history  of  the  hidden  past.  Ever,  between  the  two 
spouses,  something  drifted  to  keep  them  farther  apart. 

Yet  a  rare  brightness  beamed  in  Claire's  eyes,  as  Seth 
WTise,  hearty  and  jovial,  hailed  the  wanderers.  In  three 


326  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

months  all  the  shadows  of  the  past  had  faded  from  the 
old  banker's  mind.  He  now  welcomed  them  home  to  an 
unclouded  future.  He  had  chased  the  shadows  from  his 
brow. 

Seated  at  table — Maxwell  the  only  other  guest — the 
little  circle  of  the  new  firm  was  complete.  Wise  and 
Maxwell  exchanged  furtive  glances,  for  the  wanderers  of 
the  honeymoon  trip  were  the  only  serious  ones. 

As  the  dinner  progressed,  Seth  Wise,  rising,  announced 
the  social  completion  of  the  new  firm.  Maxwell  was 
about  to  marry  a  bright-eyed  and  spirited  girl  who  had 
been  content  to  wait  till  the  brilliant  wanderer  could  find 
her  a  home. 

While  Burnham  and  Maxwell  lingered  over  their  wine, 
Seth  and  Claire,  in  the  drawing-room,  exchanged  con 
fidences. 

Claire  brokenhi  related  to  her  uncle  the  story  of  the 
rencontre  of  the  Paris  ball. 

"  My  child,"  solemnly  said  the  old  man,  "  be  silent 
forever  on  this  episode  of  your  life.  Good  or  bad,  you 
owe  to  that  woman's  influence  your  recovered  fortune  and 
the  husband  whose  name  you  bear.  The  ways  of  fate 
are  mysterious." 

Claire,  wondering,  was  fain  to  be  silent. 

Maxwell,  listening  to  Burnham's  recital,  quietly  said  : 
"  Ralph,  I  think  if  I  were  you  I  would  put  the  seal  of 
silence  on  your  own  past.  It  would  drive  }^our  wife  mad 
to  find  out  the  secret  of  your  own  insane  love  for  the 
Witch  of  Harlem.  She  has  brought  you  together,  after 
all.  Now,  make  the  best  of  it.  Let  the  dead  past  rest." 

Two  months  later,  Seth  Wise  returned  in  the  evening 
from  a  wedding  to  his  lonely  mansion.  He  had  given 
away  a  sweet  girl  bride  to  the  bright-hearted  Maxwell, 
whose  brevet  of  "son  "  had  been  fairly  earned. 

Burnham  and  wife  marvelled  not  at  old  Seth's  joy  in 
this  bridal,  for  each  could  silently  whisper  :  u  There  was 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  327 

no  shadow  of  the  past  over  these  lovers."  And  the 
Burnhams  were  now  staidly  content,  if  not  happy. 

The  old  banker  soliloquized,  in  his  cosey  library,  after 
the  young  neophytes  had  fled  away  :  "  Strange  are  the 
pathways  of  love — strange  the  ways  of  fate — stranger 
still  the  lottery  of  marriage." 

Looking  around  on  the  splendors  of  his  solitary  home, 
the  veteran  muttered  :  "  Was  I  really  wrong  never  to 
marry  ?  Did  I  miss  sweetest  joys  or  only  intrigue  and 
heart-break  ?  My  life-work  is  nearly  done.  I  have 
almost  finished  my  labors.  If  I  could  read  the  future, 
which  of  these  unions  will  be  crowned  with  enduring 
happiness  ?  Who  can  tell  ?-  Maxwell,  bright  and  buoy 
ant,  mated  to  his  first  love  ;  Bnrnham  and  Claire,  after 
years  of  parting,  trying  to  live  over  the  past;  or" — he 
added  with  a  sigh — "  honest  John  Martin,  adoring  as  a 
blind  slave  the  storm-tossed  Witch  of  Harlem  ?  Max- 
.vell  and  his  bride  are  in  love's  happiest  dream.  Will  it 
last  ?  Burnham  L  Did  Ralph  marry  for  place,  money, 
or  to  right  the  injustice  of  years  ?  Is  it  love,  or  mere 
self-interest,  with  him  ?  Claire  !  Her  pride  was  out 
raged  by  the  past.  Does  she  think  now  complacently  of 
Harry  Morton's  memory?  And  bewitching  Marie  Ash- 
ton  !  Was  it  her  own  safety,  or  some  deeper  scheme  for 
the  future  which  tied  her  to  John  Martin  ?  Alas  !  the 
only  positively  secure  one  is  John  Martin.  He  is  self- 
deceived  and  idolizes  the  lovely  woman  whose  dark  past 
makes  her  shudder  in  his  arms.  He  enjoys  the  blind  hap 
piness  of  ignorance.  These  recent  marriages — what  will 
their  harvest  be  ?  I  leave  it  to  destiny." 

In  his  hand  a  letter  from  the  successful  Haggerty  in 
formed  him  that  "  Mrs.  John  Martin  "  was  an  acknowl 
edged  Parisian  social  leader.  Her  unfailing  devotion 
to  her  husband  was  the  theme  of  even  the  cynical  Parisian 
colony.  WTas  this  a  beginning  of  her  atonement  ?  A 
letter  from  her  announced  her  perfect  peace. 


328  DELILAH    OF    HARLEM. 

Mr.  Edward  Haggerty  described  his  own  happiness 
and  acknowledged  the  stern  directions  of  Seth  Wise  to 
not  only  seal  his  own  lips,  but  those  of  the  vivacious 
Viola,  forever  on  the  past  life  of  Marie  Ashton.  A  judi 
cious  promise  of  "  future  business  "  was  a  guarantee  of 
Haggerty's  faith.  Ed.  had  an  eye  to  the  nimble  dollar. 

"  And  these  two  blackmailers,  the  Haggertys,  seem 
really  happy  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  throwing  the  letter 
down.  "  What  is  happiness  ?  "  he  sighed. 

Rising  and  gazing  from  his  window  on  the  glittering 
streets,  filled  with  the  passing  crowd,  lonely  old  Seth 
Wise  mused  upon  the  fate  of  those  dragged  along  in  this 
restless  human  current.  "  After  all,  it  is  the  unanswered 
riddle  of  modern  New  York.  Here  man  and  woman 
chase  wealth,  entrap  and  deceive  each  other.  Smiling 
fraud,  glib  hypocrisy,  successful  scoundrelism,  and  dark, 
crime-tainted  intrigue  pass  easily  here  in  the  social 
mart :  everything  goes  when  stamped  with  the  golden 
seal.  There  is  no  real  power  in  these  days  but  wealth. 
The  soiled  sister,  in  her  carriage,  rides  down  the  honest 
wife  and  mother,  trudging  along  on  foot.  Racing  along 
in  eagerness,  living  under  the  scream  of  the  locomotive 
and  the  rattle  of  the  *  Elevated,'  the  pulse  attuned  to 
the  click  of  the  telegraph  and  the  bell  of  the  telephone, 
New  York  City  life  is  a  burning  fever.  Night  throws 
out  its  battalions  of  male  and  female  banditti  :  day  lets 
loose  the  hawk-eyed,  anxious  schemers  who  fight  to 
the  death  under  the  banner  of  '  business.'  Easy  wealth, 
rolling  in  luxury,  studies  refined  vice,  behind  golden 
screens.  Misery  throws  the  needy  man  and  woman  at 
the  mercy  of  the  strong.  And  yet  the  sum  of  human 
happiness  is  unchanged.  Thousands  of  the  worthy  calmly 
quaff  the  cup  of  life  and  leave  untouched  the  bitter  dregs, 
and  the  poison  of  social  madness.  Bounding  pulse, 
bright  eye,  loving  heart,  ringing  laughter,  are  here,  as  of 
old  under  the  blue  skies  of  Greece.  Circumstances  force 


DELILAH    OF    HARLEM.  329 

the  individual  into  devious  paths.  The  high  gods  are 
not  all  dead.  They  live  in  the  human  heart.  Only  we 
now  make  our  own  idols.  We  worship  them  as  we  will. 
And  we  must  pay  the  price.  And  I  —  should  /  preach  to 
my  fellows  ?  If  I  had  the  wisdom  of  Solon,  could  I  live, 
even  for  one  day,  the  life  of  another  ?  We  slave  for 
money.  What  is  money,  when  we  leave  it  at  the  tomb  ? 
And  yet,  what  is  life  without  it  ?  " 

Old  Seth,  dropping  the  curtain,  threw  himself  down 
and  dreamed  in  his  easy-chair  of  a  sweet  young  face, 
long  treasured  in  memory  —  a  woman's  face,  hidden  by 
the  mists  of  long-buried  years.  And  he  murmured,  as 
he  closed  his  eyes,  with  a  thought  of  the  loved  and  lost, 
of  his  lonely  life,  and  the  vanished  Paradise  :  "  It  might 
have  been  !  " 

While  his  eyelids  dropped,  far  away,  in  Paris,  the  fair 
Witch  of  Harlem  —  gazing  on  her  sparkling  diamond  cir 
clet  —  thought  fondly  and  kindly  of  the  old  man,  and 
whispered  : 

"  I  will  remember  !  For  he  spared  me  the  only  heart 
break  the  hostile  Fates  could  now  decree.  John  Martin's 
honest  faith  shall  never  be  betrayed  by  me.  May  the 
Angel  of  Mercy  seal  the  tomb  of  my  dead  past  !  " 


' 


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